This Memorial Day, I have to share a sad commentary on how clueless and callous some people can be.
I was in traffic, sitting at a red light, when noticed the car a little ahead of me in the next lane. It had a big sticker on the trunk in the shape of a yellow ribbon, the kind people have to show they support the troops. I saw this sticker had words on it, and inched forward so I could read it. Someone's name? I wondered. A military battalion?
My jaw dropped. Support Pimpin, the sticker said.
When the light changed, I sped up so I could see the driver of the car. He was young, attractive guy who looked to between 18 and 22.
I'm probably turning into a grumpy, middle-aged lady, but that sticker, and that guy, disgusted me. What got me the most was that he didn't even realize the message he was ultimately sending. He probably thought he was cool as hell with that sticker. Nevermind that it was an affront to people who use those stickers to show their support for the military, or breast cancer survivors or other important causes. Nevermind that he's either glorifying a practice where a man makes a living by brutalizing women and forcing them to sell their bodies, or he's abusing women by sleeping around with many of them and living off their largesse.
That's not cute.
That's not sexy.
And that's definitely not cool.
Showing posts with label self-awareness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label self-awareness. Show all posts
Monday, May 25, 2009
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Do you measure up to love?
Want a little reality check on how you perform your relationship? Try this humbling little exercise.
Take this wedding-ceremony passage and replace the word "Love" with your name. (It's 1 Corinthians 13:4-7.) And though the words often are spoken during wedding ceremonies, the exercise can shed light on any relationship.
Let me show you:
[Alicia] is patient. [Alicia] is kind. [Alicia] does not envy, [Alicia] does not boast, [Alicia] is not proud. [Alicia] is not rude, [Alicia] is not self-seeking, [Alicia] is not easily angered, [Alicia] keeps no record of wrongs. [Alicia] does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. [Alicia] always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
When I first did this exercise (thanks to writer Jill Rigby for suggesting it), I became more and more disheartened every time I inserted my name for "Love."
Patient? Sometimes. Ditto for kind. Easily angered? Far more often than I'd like to admit, and the same goes for "shows no record of wrongs." But I sure try hard on protecting, trusting, hoping and persevering -- to the point of annoyance to some of my friends and family.
After doing the exercise, do I feel like an adequate partner in any relationship? Not so much.
But I do have a good starting place for improvement.
Take this wedding-ceremony passage and replace the word "Love" with your name. (It's 1 Corinthians 13:4-7.) And though the words often are spoken during wedding ceremonies, the exercise can shed light on any relationship.
Let me show you:
[Alicia] is patient. [Alicia] is kind. [Alicia] does not envy, [Alicia] does not boast, [Alicia] is not proud. [Alicia] is not rude, [Alicia] is not self-seeking, [Alicia] is not easily angered, [Alicia] keeps no record of wrongs. [Alicia] does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. [Alicia] always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
When I first did this exercise (thanks to writer Jill Rigby for suggesting it), I became more and more disheartened every time I inserted my name for "Love."
Patient? Sometimes. Ditto for kind. Easily angered? Far more often than I'd like to admit, and the same goes for "shows no record of wrongs." But I sure try hard on protecting, trusting, hoping and persevering -- to the point of annoyance to some of my friends and family.
After doing the exercise, do I feel like an adequate partner in any relationship? Not so much.
But I do have a good starting place for improvement.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Sleep through the recession? Tempting, but ...
I had Friday off, which was unusual. As I prepared for bed Thursday night, I excitedly planned the next day. I'd go to yoga class. I'd visit IKEA. I'd clean my kitchen.
Instead, what I did was sleep. Almost the entire day. I only staggered from bed that night because I was hungry.
Some people clean like crazy when they're stressed. Others compulsively eat. I slide into deep sleep. It's the ultimate avoidance tactic -- you can't think about how bad life is if you're unconscious.
Have you ever slept for, like, 12-13 hours? The more you sleep, the more your body wants to sleep. When you finally get up, it's as if you've been drugged. Your head feels full of cotton and your body aches. There's guilt at having slept the day away, with nothing to show for it at the end. And then there's the ultimate problem: your life is still there, just as stressful as when you went to bed.
I think people who live alone have to be careful not to isolate themselves, especially now. It's so easy to turn your home into a cocoon and never leave it, but that "safety" can foster a sense of hopelessness and contribute to a spiral of depression. I know because I've been there, and I know how easy it is to go there again.
I had that sleepfest on Friday, but I pulled myself out of it on Saturday. By Sunday I was at the movies with a friend. We had dinner after, and a long talk. We discussed the very things I had slept to avoid. I told her about my fears, she shared hers. We plotted plans of attack on problems, instead of wallowing in them. I was still stressed after, but I also felt more empowered.
Avoidance and denial are temptations too hard to resist sometimes. I think the key is to not beat yourself up for giving in. Talk to friends, talk to family. Don't build that cocoon.
Instead, what I did was sleep. Almost the entire day. I only staggered from bed that night because I was hungry.
Some people clean like crazy when they're stressed. Others compulsively eat. I slide into deep sleep. It's the ultimate avoidance tactic -- you can't think about how bad life is if you're unconscious.
Have you ever slept for, like, 12-13 hours? The more you sleep, the more your body wants to sleep. When you finally get up, it's as if you've been drugged. Your head feels full of cotton and your body aches. There's guilt at having slept the day away, with nothing to show for it at the end. And then there's the ultimate problem: your life is still there, just as stressful as when you went to bed.
I think people who live alone have to be careful not to isolate themselves, especially now. It's so easy to turn your home into a cocoon and never leave it, but that "safety" can foster a sense of hopelessness and contribute to a spiral of depression. I know because I've been there, and I know how easy it is to go there again.
I had that sleepfest on Friday, but I pulled myself out of it on Saturday. By Sunday I was at the movies with a friend. We had dinner after, and a long talk. We discussed the very things I had slept to avoid. I told her about my fears, she shared hers. We plotted plans of attack on problems, instead of wallowing in them. I was still stressed after, but I also felt more empowered.
Avoidance and denial are temptations too hard to resist sometimes. I think the key is to not beat yourself up for giving in. Talk to friends, talk to family. Don't build that cocoon.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
So, do you like being a mom?
It wasn't the question that threw me -- though it was a little personal, coming during a chat with a co-worker.
What bothered me was how long I hesitated before answering.
The question: "So, do you like being a mom?"
After an uncomfortable 20 or 30 seconds (that seemed like hours), the answer was -- and is -- yes. I think my kids are more magical than any other. I keep a journal of the funny and amazing things they do, because I know my memory of those moments will fail me as time passes. I tell way too many stories about them to people who care only tangentially (and listen politely).
But the answer also is this: I wasn't prepared for how hard it would prove to be both a parent and a person with her own identity; how exhausting it would be to have two little beings so completely dependent on me; how guilt-ridden I could become as I realized that trying to parent with a to-do list would only invite failure.
I told my co-worker that sometimes it was suffocating, but that it seemed to get more manageable every day -- most days.
It's probably been a year since that conversation. If asked the same question again, I don't think my answer would have a Part B -- again, not on most days.
And I wouldn't hesitate before saying yes.
But that I hesitated once -- the guilt of those seconds will stay with me for a long time.
What bothered me was how long I hesitated before answering.
The question: "So, do you like being a mom?"
After an uncomfortable 20 or 30 seconds (that seemed like hours), the answer was -- and is -- yes. I think my kids are more magical than any other. I keep a journal of the funny and amazing things they do, because I know my memory of those moments will fail me as time passes. I tell way too many stories about them to people who care only tangentially (and listen politely).
But the answer also is this: I wasn't prepared for how hard it would prove to be both a parent and a person with her own identity; how exhausting it would be to have two little beings so completely dependent on me; how guilt-ridden I could become as I realized that trying to parent with a to-do list would only invite failure.
I told my co-worker that sometimes it was suffocating, but that it seemed to get more manageable every day -- most days.
It's probably been a year since that conversation. If asked the same question again, I don't think my answer would have a Part B -- again, not on most days.
And I wouldn't hesitate before saying yes.
But that I hesitated once -- the guilt of those seconds will stay with me for a long time.
Monday, December 15, 2008
The one you don't forget
Some breakups, you just never get over. No matter how bad the relationship. And maybe because the relationship was so bad.
Take my friend, Melissa. She dated this guy for close to two years. She was sure he was the man of her dreams. Little bit of a bad boy. Had traveled a bit, and he seemed to know a lot about the world and could carry on a conversation about anything. Attractive.
(She overlooked some major red flags -- still lived with his parents? -- so she caused herself some unnecessary heartache, she concedes.)
The first time he broke up with her, she was blindsided. During a date, he stopped her on a sidewalk in a busy neighborhood, suggested they sit down on a bench, and listed everything he felt the relationship was lacking: She tended toward the quiet, when he was a little more outspoken (took him a year to figure this out?); they seemed to be a different stages in their lives (a fair concern); and the sex was so-so (you only get what you're brave enough to ask for, my man). Then he let her loose. He said he was sorry. Melissa dissolved into tears, he took her home, and she tried to forget about him.
Then, about a month later, he apologized. He said he wanted her back. She agreed.
It was about three weeks of happy-happy joy-joy, Melissa once again got lost in the relationship, and she was blindsided yet again.
He broke up with her -- in a park, this time. She says she was a little less weepy that time around, a lot more angry, and a lot quicker to move on.
But she was always haunted by what she should have said, how she could have expressed her anger a little more clearly. Maybe a little more loudly.
She ran into him about a year later. He apologized again for how he had treated her. He blamed it on depression, and said he was taking medication to address it. Then he asked her back to his place. She says she smiled at the silliness of it all, but she declined.
Still, the regrets of that relationship follow her -- like those nightmares you have about missing a final exam long after you've received your diploma -- despite many years and several solid, healthy relationships under her belt.
She says she'll probably never get over those regrets. Given that she's held onto the regrets of the relationship for so long, would she ever take him back, should they again cross paths? No, she insists. She'd rather just live with the old regrets, instead of creating new ones.
But how would she react? She's says she can't know until she's in the situation. But she guesses she might have a few words of advice for him. That her tone might be a lot harsher, the volume a little louder than the last time.
Maybe she even has those words ready to go now. Don't you?
Take my friend, Melissa. She dated this guy for close to two years. She was sure he was the man of her dreams. Little bit of a bad boy. Had traveled a bit, and he seemed to know a lot about the world and could carry on a conversation about anything. Attractive.
(She overlooked some major red flags -- still lived with his parents? -- so she caused herself some unnecessary heartache, she concedes.)
The first time he broke up with her, she was blindsided. During a date, he stopped her on a sidewalk in a busy neighborhood, suggested they sit down on a bench, and listed everything he felt the relationship was lacking: She tended toward the quiet, when he was a little more outspoken (took him a year to figure this out?); they seemed to be a different stages in their lives (a fair concern); and the sex was so-so (you only get what you're brave enough to ask for, my man). Then he let her loose. He said he was sorry. Melissa dissolved into tears, he took her home, and she tried to forget about him.
Then, about a month later, he apologized. He said he wanted her back. She agreed.
It was about three weeks of happy-happy joy-joy, Melissa once again got lost in the relationship, and she was blindsided yet again.
He broke up with her -- in a park, this time. She says she was a little less weepy that time around, a lot more angry, and a lot quicker to move on.
But she was always haunted by what she should have said, how she could have expressed her anger a little more clearly. Maybe a little more loudly.
She ran into him about a year later. He apologized again for how he had treated her. He blamed it on depression, and said he was taking medication to address it. Then he asked her back to his place. She says she smiled at the silliness of it all, but she declined.
Still, the regrets of that relationship follow her -- like those nightmares you have about missing a final exam long after you've received your diploma -- despite many years and several solid, healthy relationships under her belt.
She says she'll probably never get over those regrets. Given that she's held onto the regrets of the relationship for so long, would she ever take him back, should they again cross paths? No, she insists. She'd rather just live with the old regrets, instead of creating new ones.
But how would she react? She's says she can't know until she's in the situation. But she guesses she might have a few words of advice for him. That her tone might be a lot harsher, the volume a little louder than the last time.
Maybe she even has those words ready to go now. Don't you?
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Older, wiser, but still 'young'
I saw "Young @ Heart" -- a documentary about a New England senior citizens chorus -- recently, and it really stayed with me. I can't recommend it enough (it's playing at The Manor; here's Observer critic Lawrence Toppman's review).I didn't expect the movie to affect me as much as it did. It's laugh-out-loud funny in spots, and tear-jerkingly poignant in others (take Kleenex -- I wish I had). "Young @ Heart" follows the chorus as they prepare new songs to add to their repertoire before heading off to tour Europe. Among them: tunes by Sonic Youth, Coldplay and James Brown. The star, in my mind, is 92-year-old Eileen, sharp as a tack and an irrepressible flirt. Her delivery of The Clash's "Should I Stay Or Should I Go" is worth the price of admission.
What I admire about the seniors is their vitality in their later years. I was immediately reminded of my paternal grandmother, because she has that same spark. We've become really close in the past five years or so. We communicate as two adults and I cherish that, because not only is she really wise, she's also really cool. My grandma is retired, but she has a part-time job, works the polls during elections, volunteers, is the leader of a neighborhood association, and is often not home when I phone. She has gentlemen callers; in fact, she gets more play than me! During a visit last month she regaled me with stories and made a Mother's Day gift request so naughty, I can't even repeat it here.
The stars of "Young @ Heart," and people like my grandmother, are model examples of how to age gracefully, smartly, and on one's own terms. They also show that we need not fear old age, because it is something to be embraced and enjoyed.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
A smile for single ladies
I received this e-mail forward from a (married!) friend today. What I like about it is it flips the fairy tale of marriage to a "prince" providing women's happily-ever-after. Yes, it relies on stereotypes, but it still made me smile, OK? And a smile is worth passing on.
My friend's note: "Read this. Go have a cocktail. Then come back and read it again. Put feet up. Smile serenely."
Once upon a time, a guy asked a girl "Will you marry me?" The girl said: "NO!" And the girl lived happily ever after and went shopping, dancing, camping, drank martinis, ate chocolate, always had a clean house, never had to cook, did whatever the hell she wanted, never argued, didn't have to worry about her weight, traveled more, had many lovers, didn't save money, and had all the hot water to herself. She went to the theater, never watched sports, never wore friggin' lacy lingerie that went up her butt, had high self-esteem, never cried or yelled, felt and looked fabulous in sweat pants and was pleasant all the time. The End.
My friend's note: "Read this. Go have a cocktail. Then come back and read it again. Put feet up. Smile serenely."
Once upon a time, a guy asked a girl "Will you marry me?" The girl said: "NO!" And the girl lived happily ever after and went shopping, dancing, camping, drank martinis, ate chocolate, always had a clean house, never had to cook, did whatever the hell she wanted, never argued, didn't have to worry about her weight, traveled more, had many lovers, didn't save money, and had all the hot water to herself. She went to the theater, never watched sports, never wore friggin' lacy lingerie that went up her butt, had high self-esteem, never cried or yelled, felt and looked fabulous in sweat pants and was pleasant all the time. The End.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Flirting: A refresher course
I was sipping my cocktail -- one of those "martinis" where the only thing martini-like about it is that it's served in a martini glass -- at a bar Saturday night when my friend announced, "I want to practice flirting."
Like many of us post-relationship, she's a little rusty on chatting up people in bars and clubs and such. So our night out turned into a fun little flirting workshop. And since she made some common mistakes, you get to benefit from her blunders.
Here's what out-of-practice flirters have to remember: Flirting is like dancing -- salsa dancing, really. When the girl steps back, the guy steps forward. When the guy moves back, the girl moves forward. It's a sexy push and pull, and you're working together. And women, this is the most important thing: while there are some fearless (or reckless, or clueless) men who will flirt with anyone at any time, most guys will wait and watch for some sign -- an invitation to dance, if you will -- that lets them know they won't be shot down if they approach. No one likes rejection.
Which brings me to my first lesson.
1. My friend claimed she was a master of the across-the-room flirt, which is mostly in the eyes. Look, look away, look back. I asked her what she did when the guy she was looking at finally came over. "I run away," she admitted.
The lesson here: "You have to commit," I told her. If you're using the sassy eyes on someone, you're telling them without words you're interested. People who do stuff like that, then bail, might be thought of as teases, and that could get you hurt. It's also rude. But more on this later.
2. Here's a snippet of our conversation:
Me: ... You have to watch body language. Remember the guy who was here next to me ordering a drink? His body language was open -- did you see how he was facing me, so all I had to do was --
Her: What guy?
Me: That really cute guy who was right here less than five minutes ago. He had positioned himself so that --
Her: What cute guy? I didn't even see him!
The lesson here: I think I say this in every blog about the dating scene, but that's because it's crucial: YOU HAVE TO PAY ATTENTION. The father of my friend's children could have been standing next to me, and she missed him. You've got to be ON -- all the time really, if you're looking for a mate, but turn it up when there are a lot of available people milling around.
3. My friend set her sights on a man she wanted to practice on. He'd passed us earlier and when their eyes met, she smiled and he smiled back, holding her glance an extra beat. ("But he didn't stop!" she wailed. "You didn't help him!" I shot back. "He looked at you and all you had to do was say hi. You have to give him reason to stop." The dance, remember?)
In full wingwoman mode, when he passed us again I snagged him. In less than a minute he was sitting with us. But my friend had decided within the first couple of minutes she wasn't interested anymore. I wound up talking to him more than she did.
The lesson here: Back to lesson one: Commit, even if it's only three minutes before you use your escape strategy. You've done the work to get the dance going -- there's no graceful way out after only a couple of moves. I reminded my friend that she said she wanted to practice. You're not going to date every person you flirt with. OK, the person isn't who you thought they were going to be. Keep the stankface at bay and converse for a few minutes, then move on.
Another reason flirting is like dancing: you may step on a few toes in the beginning, but you become more proficient over time. My friend might have stumbled a bit, but at least she's back on the dance floor. You never learn if you never try.
Like many of us post-relationship, she's a little rusty on chatting up people in bars and clubs and such. So our night out turned into a fun little flirting workshop. And since she made some common mistakes, you get to benefit from her blunders.
Here's what out-of-practice flirters have to remember: Flirting is like dancing -- salsa dancing, really. When the girl steps back, the guy steps forward. When the guy moves back, the girl moves forward. It's a sexy push and pull, and you're working together. And women, this is the most important thing: while there are some fearless (or reckless, or clueless) men who will flirt with anyone at any time, most guys will wait and watch for some sign -- an invitation to dance, if you will -- that lets them know they won't be shot down if they approach. No one likes rejection.
Which brings me to my first lesson.
1. My friend claimed she was a master of the across-the-room flirt, which is mostly in the eyes. Look, look away, look back. I asked her what she did when the guy she was looking at finally came over. "I run away," she admitted.
The lesson here: "You have to commit," I told her. If you're using the sassy eyes on someone, you're telling them without words you're interested. People who do stuff like that, then bail, might be thought of as teases, and that could get you hurt. It's also rude. But more on this later.
2. Here's a snippet of our conversation:
Me: ... You have to watch body language. Remember the guy who was here next to me ordering a drink? His body language was open -- did you see how he was facing me, so all I had to do was --
Her: What guy?
Me: That really cute guy who was right here less than five minutes ago. He had positioned himself so that --
Her: What cute guy? I didn't even see him!
The lesson here: I think I say this in every blog about the dating scene, but that's because it's crucial: YOU HAVE TO PAY ATTENTION. The father of my friend's children could have been standing next to me, and she missed him. You've got to be ON -- all the time really, if you're looking for a mate, but turn it up when there are a lot of available people milling around.
3. My friend set her sights on a man she wanted to practice on. He'd passed us earlier and when their eyes met, she smiled and he smiled back, holding her glance an extra beat. ("But he didn't stop!" she wailed. "You didn't help him!" I shot back. "He looked at you and all you had to do was say hi. You have to give him reason to stop." The dance, remember?)
In full wingwoman mode, when he passed us again I snagged him. In less than a minute he was sitting with us. But my friend had decided within the first couple of minutes she wasn't interested anymore. I wound up talking to him more than she did.
The lesson here: Back to lesson one: Commit, even if it's only three minutes before you use your escape strategy. You've done the work to get the dance going -- there's no graceful way out after only a couple of moves. I reminded my friend that she said she wanted to practice. You're not going to date every person you flirt with. OK, the person isn't who you thought they were going to be. Keep the stankface at bay and converse for a few minutes, then move on.
Another reason flirting is like dancing: you may step on a few toes in the beginning, but you become more proficient over time. My friend might have stumbled a bit, but at least she's back on the dance floor. You never learn if you never try.
Friday, March 28, 2008
I'm psyched for my reunion -- go figure
My 20-year class reunion is this year, and one of my best friends from high school got roped into tracking down members of our senior class. I called him to get the rundown.
Since I was hazy on the names he mentioned, we both went and got our yearbooks. We flipped through them as we talked.
"I feel like I should be drinking while doing this," he joked. No kidding. I was tempted to pour a glass of wine myself. The walk down memory lane dredged up memories good and bad.
I recall what I used to say in my early 20s about attending a class reunion. No way I would go back unless I was really skinny, and had an awesome job and a gorgeous man on my arm. I'd been a super-shy band geek in high school, and I thought I had something to prove. I skipped my 10-year reunion because I didn't want to shell out for the flight from California to Alabama -- plus I told myself I was still in touch with everyone I cared about from those days.
Now I'm within easy driving distance of a reunion, and my long talk with my friend made me excited about going. As I flipped through the color pictures of us smiling seniors, with bad haircuts, ugly glasses and goofy smiles, I found myself curious about how we all turned out. The guys I had crushes on -- would I still feel the same way, or wonder what drugs I was on? The people I thought were so cool and interesting, but I was afraid to talk to them -- would they be as interesting now?
And what would my former classmates think of me? I can't say I'm as concerned as I used to be. I'm not going to go on some crazy diet to lose 60 pounds by summer. I'm not going to lie about my job -- so what if I'm not a doctor/lawyer/media superstar -- and I'm totally comfortable going alone, and telling people I've never married.
I'm just going to be Deirdre ... because I like her just fine.
How about you guys? Did you go to your class reunions, or did you avoid them like Brussels sprouts? And why?
Since I was hazy on the names he mentioned, we both went and got our yearbooks. We flipped through them as we talked.
"I feel like I should be drinking while doing this," he joked. No kidding. I was tempted to pour a glass of wine myself. The walk down memory lane dredged up memories good and bad.
I recall what I used to say in my early 20s about attending a class reunion. No way I would go back unless I was really skinny, and had an awesome job and a gorgeous man on my arm. I'd been a super-shy band geek in high school, and I thought I had something to prove. I skipped my 10-year reunion because I didn't want to shell out for the flight from California to Alabama -- plus I told myself I was still in touch with everyone I cared about from those days.
Now I'm within easy driving distance of a reunion, and my long talk with my friend made me excited about going. As I flipped through the color pictures of us smiling seniors, with bad haircuts, ugly glasses and goofy smiles, I found myself curious about how we all turned out. The guys I had crushes on -- would I still feel the same way, or wonder what drugs I was on? The people I thought were so cool and interesting, but I was afraid to talk to them -- would they be as interesting now?
And what would my former classmates think of me? I can't say I'm as concerned as I used to be. I'm not going to go on some crazy diet to lose 60 pounds by summer. I'm not going to lie about my job -- so what if I'm not a doctor/lawyer/media superstar -- and I'm totally comfortable going alone, and telling people I've never married.
I'm just going to be Deirdre ... because I like her just fine.
How about you guys? Did you go to your class reunions, or did you avoid them like Brussels sprouts? And why?
Thursday, January 17, 2008
A fresh way to clear out the closet
Cleaning out one’s closet might be the hardest thing for some women to do. But thanks to some advice from Vivienne Westwood – a British designer with a penchant for flesh-revealing outfits and bondage wear such as patent leather short-shorts and platform shoes tall enough to give the wearer nose bleeds – I cleared mine out quite nicely over the weekend.I heard a BBC interview with the quirky designer where she was asked about the state of today’s fashion. She deplored the spread of big chain stores that offer cookie-cutter style with little in the way of individuality, and said she wouldn't be caught dead going to the grocery store in a T-shirt and jeans. But here’s what really stuck with me: Vivienne said you should dress for the people you want to attract.
With the designer’s words in my head, I headed for my closet and storage bins. I scanned my clothes. What kind of people would I attract with my wardrobe? I didn't like what I saw: lots of casual clothes and once-sexy club gear that no longer fit, and few outfits suitable for fancy occasions.
What kind of people – specifically men -- was I hoping to attract? I asked myself. A man who wants a 38-year-old tomboy who can’t be bothered to attend a cocktail party or dress for a really nice night out? I want a smart, funny, fun-loving, adventurous and diverse man in my life. A man as willing to go to the ballet as he is to a baseball game. My wardrobe certainly didn't reflect that.
Suddenly, most of the items in the closet and storage bins were unacceptable. I was finally able to let go of adored pants and dresses that used to fit … three sizes ago. It was time to face reality: if I ever got thin enough to wear them again, I’d want to buy new clothes. I got rid of all the stained, faded, stretched sweats, sweaters and T-shirts. Dumped old jeans. Whenever I started to get upset about parting with certain items, I would take a break to knit, and calm down enough to start again.
I filled two big bags with clothes to give away and two with clothes to throw away. I emptied one of the storage bins, almost completely cleared the closet shelves above the racks, and finished knitting a scarf.
When I looked at my newly spacious closet I had a moment of panic: I don’t have anything to wear! I told myself. To which I quickly answered: you wear the same five or six things over and over again, anyway. But that's gonna change.
Besides, I now have plenty of room to restock my closet with new clothes – a conscious blending of what I like, along with a new found awareness of who I want to attract. Opens up a whole new shopping world. Plus, if I have the clothes, I'll be more likely to expand my social range ... and I'll look great!
Thanks, Vivienne.
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