There’s some level of acceptance for me to get to, but I’m just not there yet.  I know that I need to and will lose the 10 pounds that I gained over the holidays.  Hell, bathing suit season is right around the SoCal corner.  And I know that if you saw me you’d say, “Shut up. You look fine.”  I’m just saying it’s all perspective, sister.  I want to feel good about the outside from the inside.

I need an immersion of reassurance.  That’s certainly what I found when I read Mary Beth William’s Mom’s First Nude Shoot.  It’s a story of how she got naked with her other 40-something, mommy poker friends for a photo shoot in Time Out (NY) magazine.  The story wasn’t about her feeling empowered (however, I hope that was a byproduct of the experience), but more to the point of having the courage to be looked at, and a level of vulnerability, grace, and acceptance of who she really is.  Yep, that was a courageous act, not just disrobing.  I’m not ready to play poker with those girls, but I really like the acceptance piece.

Maybe I need to go to Harbin again.  It was always a hideaway where I was confronted with nudity and reassured that I’m normal.  A trip to Harbin reminded me that there is a WIDE spectrum of body shapes and sizes, and I have no room to complain.  Sitting (naked) in those hot springs was always a good reset button on my body-mind-spirit.  Maybe I just need another trip to San Francisco again, where I always felt Nirvana “Come As You Are” is a theme song (but not the psycho gun part).

I want to feel comfortable in my skin not just for me, but on behalf of my boys.  Not that I go around parading my nudity, nor do I want to quickly cover or chide them for coming into my room when I’m getting dressed (well at least while they’re still young and it’s not weird).  I just want to feel proud of my body, all that it’s gone through, and all the strength it’s needed to get through this life.  I do love my life and I want to love my body.  It’s done good.  I want to be thankful and I am, I just want to remember to be more “hot stuff” and less “ugh” when I look in the mirror.  I think Husband most of all would appreciate the “hot stuff” part.

Yes, I’m doing my Sanity Friday three mile beach walk.  Yes, I’ve been going to Jazzercize for two weeks now.  I’m taking the positive steps to physically feel better about my body, which will likely produce great results for the psychological side.  I guess when it comes down to it, I just want to see more of what’s real (thank you Lizzie, thank you Bonnie, and yes! thank you Leonard Nimoy) and not so much of the pretending and pretentiousness that’s out there.  Like if we could all get naked, and go, “oh, there you are” with all the bumps, scars, rolls and moles that we all have.  Does this make me some kind of weird nudist?  Really, I just want to know that I’m normal.  Then again I’m not just another jen.  So who knows.

I too, MB, want to be real, vulnerable, and courageous.  I have the faith that when I leap, I’ll land (possibly bruised, battered, but never broken).  But I see your rub, it’s the initial fear, the doubt, and the shitty internal dialogue that is there.  I think I just need to strip down, take a long real look, breathe in acceptance, and say “thank you.”  It is just boobies after all and they’re mine.

But first I need a drink and listen to Joan again.  Cheers friends!

This post included in Real Life’s Your Life Your Blog

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Are these girls parents?  I sure as shit hope not.  I hope this publisher isn’t secretly a supporter of teen moms.  These cover girls look so young (maybe I’m getting too old!), it looks like they could also do a spread for Seventeen magazine and that’s not right.  To borrow a phrase from the Murmurs:  It’s kinda freaky, it’s kinda weird.  Maybe the girls are supposed to be au pairs, nannies, or babysitters.  But wait, isn’t the title of the magazine Parenting?  Well, I’d love to have more parenting support by the way of a nanny, but that’s not what the content of this magazine is about – co-parenting with nannies and other support.  Hmmmm…. I’m confused.

By a majority, parents are two people, most often a man and a woman.  Surely this magazine could find attractive male and female parents in their 20s, 30s or (gasp!) 40s.  I’m sure some of the real subscribers would gladly send in their fancy photo Christmas cards to enter to win a cover shoot (I’m talking the whole family, not just pictures of their tiny tots).  I also know a fantastic group of hot single moms that are most certainly cover girl material.  That also would make great content (single mom parenting) for an issue.  Let’s not forget the gays.  I know some brilliant same sex parents that would love to represent.  C’mon there’s nothing cuter than two hot gay dads or hotter than two lipstick lesbians that are moms.

So Parenting Magazine, stop kidding me and wise up.  Get rid of your Seventeen cover girl and get some REAL PARENTS on the cover.  Do you really think that a callow girl and cute kid sells?  No, controversy sells!  So I’m gonna blow the whistle on your cover girls, and you’re your publisher, Bonnier, will be pleased.  Because, really isn’t it only a matter of time that you’ll be closing your doors like so many magazines these days.  Why not go out with a bang!

Friends and readers, if you’re at all moved to shake your fist, please send an email to susan@parenting.com and feel free to cut and paste the following:

Dear Parenting Magazine:  Stop kidding me!  Please use real parents on your cover and not callow Seventeen cover girls.  You are writing for parents not au pairs.  Will the real parents please stand up?  Represent.

That’s all I have to say about that.  Pull up a chair, pour a drink and conversate.  Cheers friends!

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Bootyliciousness is my biological destiny.  If you’ve ever met my Mom, you could see.  She’s got a big butt and that’s where she gains her weight (she’d also say her arms, but those stay hidden most of the time).  She can’t hide her behind.  It’s not as bad as Jennifer Coolidge’s character in Robots, Aunt Fanny, but (pun intended) you get the picture. (btw, Robots is one of my favorite kid animated movies, a must see if you’re a parent!)

I’ve been up (size 12) and I’ve been down (size 6) through the years and certainly child bearing has contributed to the coming and goings of my fat.  But this time around, I have a new flab.  It’s my squishy center.  Not unlike that box of See’s Candies that I shared over the holidays.  Yes, my stomach area was permanently disfigured when Baby was born. (Oh SOAM, I love you so).  However I believe that after you reach a particular age you shouldn’t wear a two piece bathing suit anyways, so I’m okay with it.  SoCal Moms will loudly disagree, but I wasn’t raised here.  Can I blame this new blob on Baby?  Maybe a little bit.  Is this a part of aging?  Ugh.  I’m not ready to accept that quite yet.

Living in SoCal is a double edged sword.  It’s extremely beautiful here.  While many of you are dealing with freeze and snow days, I’ve got my back patio door open as I write this.  However, people think too much about what they look like here.  Simple fact is that we wear less clothes year around.  I never get to wear my turtlenecks here and I never put away my sandals or tank tops.  Our bodies simply show more.  Our summer starts sometime in April before the May Gray or June Gloom sets in and then it lasts well into September (no, I’m not kidding).  Frankly, this was one of the reasons I was scared to move down here.  You have to think about your body more than where you can hide it under heavy sweaters six months out of the year.  And vanity screws with my sanity.

Well the good news is that I know what to do.  It’s simple, but not always easy.  Get rid of the sweets in the house (working on it, ahem), drink more water (check), walk more (check – Sanity Friday 3 mile beach side walks with Lola), and eat less (shake weekday mornings, chews for snacks, more salads for lunch and sensible dinners).  I know I can’t fight the battle of the bulge by only walking one day a week.  But where to fit in exercise when I’m a SAHM?  How do you Moms do it?

I’ve got to find a low cost, (or preferably no cost) way to exercise.  Yeah, I’ve got DVDs that collect dust and no, I’m not pushing BigBoy and Baby in a stroller.  Maybe I’ll have to reconsider that; the beachside walk is extremely nice.  I want to add dance back into my life.  That’s been a BIG missing since marrying Husband.  It’s not his fault, I know that dog don’t hunt.  So here’s my next mystery, Scooby Doo.  Find joy in exercise.  I’ll find it if dance is involved because to shake my bootie puts a smile on my face.  And I’ll keep coming back for more.  I know myself.  Dance brings me great joy.  So I must find a way to do this.  I’m open to suggestions.  Let’s hear it, friends.  I’m going to do some research with my glass of Cupcake Sauvignon Blanc tonight.  Because that’s one piece of sweetness, I’m not giving up.  Cheers!

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So I went to my 20 year high school reunion this past weekend.  Really there was no reason not to go.  It was within driving distance and I was going to share the hotel room with a friend.  After all, I was reminded over and over from my GBF (who did not attend, btw) that I had missed our 10 year reunion and made him go.  (No, I am not bitter)  Back to the point at hand, I had such a spectacular time and honestly, I am a bit surprised.

My GBF was bound and determined not to go because he felt strongly that the people from high school that were meaningful were already involved in his life.  I think a part of it was that he didn’t want to explain to dozens of people that in fact, he is gay.  That was the question most asked of me when I explained that my GBF and I lived together for years and remained very close.  My answer was always, “Yes he is, but we all already knew that, didn’t we?”  C’mon people.

I saw the reunion as an opportunity to reconnect, share some stories, and hopefully have my mind changed about who I thought people were.  We all had our high school drama growing up, didn’t we?  In high school, we make presumptions about people.  We were friends with some, but not others for stupid reasons.  We categorized people and I’m sure people did the same with me.  I arrived at GHS as a new girl from Texas whose skirt was regulation height, however at my new school there were no teachers measuring skirts.  I will never forget seeing a girl with a bathing suit top covered by a Corona tank top sitting in front of me on my first day of school.  I was both appalled and delighted by the new fashion (or lack thereof) opportunities.  Please know the anxiety of fitting in was always present for this new girl.

The reunion was no exception.  Of course my first thoughts were, “what am I going to wear?!?!”  After charging up a storm to find just the right dress and shoes, I settled on a dress I thought was relaxed and pretty, more fun and less vavavoom.  (Thanks Lola and boys for your input and yes, I returned –reluctantly- the other dresses and shoes.)  Once that was settled, I wanted to give some thought about how to answer the cursory questions one would ask after not seeing you over the last 20 years.  How do you briefly sum up your life so that it’s a bit more funny and refreshing than reporting your status (married w/two children, living in San Diego).  And what questions would I ask?  I only went to GHS for two years, so I was particularly concerned if I was even going to recognize people there, let alone remember their names.  And you should know, that when I moved I landed in a particularly great group of people – friendly, fun, good students in a sheltered suburb of L.A.

I have to say some of the most awkward moments of the reunion were in the beginning.  I felt like a Seinfield episode was playing out in a moment and I was caught between the discomfort and wanting to bust out laughing not knowing what to do.  Let me explain…My friend Kerri, reunion organizer and childhood resident of our town (read: she should know everyone!), hosted a champagne pre-party in her room.  Our group of girlfriends showed up first, but shortly thereafter another group of girls joined the party.  I somewhat recognized them, but should have brushed up on my yearbook to have remembered their names.  They were the more studious girls and had their own clique.  I don’t think I ever really talked to them in school as we were just in different circles.  As they arrived, hugs were going all around, but I was riddled with questions and anxiety!  Look, I’m friendly and love meeting new people, but I froze in etiquette confusion.  To hug or not to hug…that was the question.

What was the appropriate level of greeting enthusiasm for people that I barely knew 20 years ago?  Of course, I automatically leaned in for a mild hug because she’s hugging toward me and I didn’t want it to be weird.  But really, do you hug someone whose name you don’t know in any other circumstance?  Does the shared experience of going the same school or knowing each others’ faces because you were alphabetically arranged near each other for a year (lockers, class rooms, graduation, etc.) grant hug status?  I wasn’t sure and honestly a little freaked out about how to progress through the night.  I decided a friendly hello would be my greeting to those faces that looked somewhat familiar.  I wasn’t going in for the hug unless I really knew them and meant it.  Kerri, during our post-reunion re-hash, laughed about the discomfort of having her picture taken with someone she doesn’t think she said more than a dozen words to in the past 30 years.

I got to say thanks to the guy who asked me on my first date.  I got to offer condolences to a friend whose twin brother had passed away.  I laughed so hard with my prom date and we shared some true confessions over a drink (nothing sexy you dirty minds!).  I was surprised by how incredible the women looked and how some people’s sense of humor never left.  I got to dance with my girls and rehash some great stories.  I let go of some stupid high school grudges and things that were said many years ago.  I gave myself and others an opportunity for a fresh start.  And I learned a new way to chase tequila shots (with tomato juice…kills the burn!).

Looking back over the night, I wish I didn’t hesitate with the hug and I wished I would have figured out the stunning mystery blonde sooner so that I could have talked with her.  Certainly I will always have uncertainty about some things, but I’m okay with it because the night was a great celebration of community and shared experience.  The friends that decided not to go (or couldn’t) were sorely missed.  And yes, my hair was blonde in high school, but hasn’t been for a very long time (the odd and second most asked question of the night).  Cheers GHS and thanks for a great night to remember!

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Hi. I used to be a big fan of your Feather Lash Mascara (waterproof). Trying to find the right kind of mascara for me is like trying to find a new pair of jeans. It drives me crazy. I have been brand and product faithful for over 3 years. I can’t find Feather Lash anywhere and see that you are not carrying it on your website. I would love a thoughtful and intelligent answer to the following question:

What current product is similar to the formula and brush that comprised Feather Lash?

I have tried your new Double Extend mascara and while I do like the length I achieve and brush, I’m disappointed that I can’t crimp (use an eyelash curler on) my lashes after I’ve done both steps. The lashes are so synthetically changed; it’s like they are ‘set’ and won’t bend (kind of in a plastic weird way). And then the removal process, when I wash my face or go swimming), it’s just strange the way they come off. I don’t know if I can adjust to that. They are just too different for me, I think. But I’ll re-emphasize that I do like the length it created and the brush.

What’s a girl to do when you cancel her favorite product? Please help.

I wrote this with very low expectations of getting anything other than an auto generated return email. Strangely enough, I got what I asked for: a thoughtful and intelligent answer! The rep (Inez, Consumer Affairs Supervisor) apologized, expressed understanding of my feelings, and offered a different product for me to try. Bonus points would have been to forward me a coupon, but low expectations were set as to not be disappointed. She suggested the Bare Naturale Mascara btw. So thank you L’Oréal for not sucking. (However, your site navigation is not friendly.)

Are you brand loyal? Do you feel as deeply connected to your mascara as I do? It’s essential for me. It’s mascara, blush and eye brow color and out the door these days. You’ve gotta work with ya got and that’s about all the time I have.

It’s funny the other day I went to an impromptu playdate at a friend’s house. I felt like it would be okay being face-naked around her (she teased me once for having lipstick on while being at home with the kids…what can I say I had chapped lips and the tube was close!). But what I thought would be just us turned into a Mommy & Me Happy Hour (which was great and a lot of fun!). Ug, I got over being face-naked since most of the gals there were too.

Maybe it’s that I grew up in Texas. Maybe I am vain. Maybe I’m neurotic. I don’t know, but it’s this kind of thing that makes me laugh about myself and shake my head. It’s a part of who I am. Forgive me, raise your glass and laugh with me.

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Where am I these days? Am I lost? No. Well maybe a little bit. I’m working on finding my way through a storm.

Am I okay? Yes, but weary. I need to find my peaceful waters. I am close. I can feel it.

So, how do I get there? Writing. I can feel my way through. It always helps to write what’s working first. There are undeniable, beautiful things in my life right now. So I’ll start there.

Holy cow (as Drew is fond of saying right now)…Encinitas is simply beautiful! I thank god often for being able to enjoy my life here. The ocean, blue skies, palm trees (f’ing palm trees – sometimes I want to gag, sometimes I want to giggle) and the completely sublime weather. (I swear if I had a dollar for every person that complains about the weather here! There are so many complainers and I COMPLETELY do not understand what there is to gripe about!) It’s summertime and it couldn’t be more spectacular weather. Hell, I’m taking the boys and going to the beach today for a few hours. Not bad, eh?

Those boys – I was laid off in January and the blessing is that I’ve gotten to discover who these gorgeous little blondie boys are. I have two: BigBoy is 4 ½ and BabyD is 1 ½ . To me they are simply stunning and often they take my breath away with their smiles. It’s funny that I once couldn’t even think of myself as a mom and here I am blown over by two half pints. The boys are the best gift I’ve ever received – and wow, they are a gift that keeps on giving.

My husband – I’ve got a good’en (as Grammy would say). And I should be WAY MORE generous with him than I am (god help me). Husband is reliable, trustworthy, tall and charming, can carry on a conversation and is witty, he’s handsome and sweet-hearted, handy and a super-duper Daddy. He’s also a thick-headed guy sometimes who needs to slow down and listen and think more with his heart. But isn’t that most men? He’s my husband, we’re so married and we’re going the distance because I love him madly. And yes, I am challenged. It’s what I asked for I suppose. (cue Aimee Mann “You’ve got, what you want. You can’t hardly stand it.”)

These are the things I know to be TRUE. You should also know that I am a woman of faith. Not like in god with a capital G (tho I’m not opposed to using that word because it’s how most of us label our belief, but I’ll use a small g, thankyouverymuch). Maybe it’s more that I believe in Magic, but not like the capital W (tho I don’t rule that out either). It’s more that I believe in the beautiful, simple, small miracles. I believe that the world works, good triumphs over evil, words and thoughts can shape and shift reality in a blink of an eye. It’s a tingly feeling that makes things happen. It’s like all the good of Disneyland when you’re a kid and letting go of my adult cynicism of marketing, money and mouse ears. As my friend Victoria would say, it’s getting in the flow.

So what’s my problem? Like many of us – financial strain, of course. Finding what’s real for me as related to my next career/job. Ideally I want work that is authentic for me, a real expression of who I am. Can I just do a job and be thankful for a paycheck? Maybe, I just need to get over myself. I dunno, you tell me. This all leads me to my biggest struggle – many families’ dilemma. Do I work to put my kids in someone else’s care? I love the people that care for my boys, please don’t get me wrong, but often it’s just about equal: my pay would pay for day care and that’s about it. (and when I say day care, yes, BigBoy would go to preschool). This seems too crazy to comprehend.

And if we can make this work and I can stay home, will I finally lose my identity under a load of laundry? It could happen, trust me. For god sakes, I already drive a minivan. Sometimes I even am repulsed when I think of myself driving 80 down the 5 freeway with my venti latte in one hand and singing Madonna at the top of my lungs (Oh the cliché! Oh the horror! My kids may not play soccer yet, but it’s coming!)

I also will be going to hell (if I believed in hell) because I care about how I look. Vanity is a sin, isn’t it? It’s strange to live in Southern California where people barely wear clothes and 40 IS right around the corner! Really, I just want to feel good about myself, but aging in getting in the way. I know…from the inside out and all that stuff. But have you looked in the mirror lately and said, “Where did that come from?” The real question is where is it going?

And another thing…I need more sex. Let me be clear – with my husband. You know the emotional clogging that gets in the way of really letting it go? (women, back me up here) Well we’re in need of emotional Drain-O! And I struggle here. You’d think with all this writing and putting it out on the internet, I wouldn’t have a problem talking with my husband, but I do.

And that brings me back to the beginning…I write because I can’t afford therapy right now. Writing will help me find my calmer waters and fix my drains. So have a drink with me and let’s toast to the sea!

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