Fat is not the problem

Plus-size, fat, voluptuous... whatever you call us, curvy girls are getting a lot of publicity lately. From magazine covers, to articles, to a seemingly-harmless post on a friend's Facebook, everyone is talking about fat chicks. Not only the women, but what is OK - and not OK - to say about them.

I've spent a lot of time carefully curating the people with whom I surround myself (both online and in real life) so I don't see a lot of negativity (unless I go searching, and I only do that when I'm in a really good mood so I can handle what I find). What I do see (and hear) are a lot of well-intentioned comments that fall just short of their mark.

There are the obvious insults. Any time a heavy woman posts a photo of herself, the trolls come out in droves. You know, these guys who hide behind the keyboard in their parents' basement, but feel they are in a position to judge another person.

But to me, those aren't even the worst comments. Sure, being called names is hurtful - but most of us have been called names all our lives. Personally, if I hadn't learned how to handle that kind of insult, I wouldn't have survived past grade school.

It's the well-intentioned, but slightly-off-mark, comments that are tough.

Comments like, "She's fat - but she's still really pretty," or "She's so brave for wearing that (whatever item) with such confidence." Then there's my personal favorite, "That outfit is so flattering."

Obviously these all sound like compliments. They're meant in a genuine way, and people honestly mean to convey a good, positive message. They never intended to fat-shame - but do they? 

If your comment suggests that it's a surprise for a fat woman to be beautiful or confident - that's fat-shaming. If it suggests that an outfit would look good on a thin woman, but a fat woman has to settle for not looking awful - that's fat-shaming. If you feel the need to excuse or explain or defend a person's fatness, you're suggesting there's something wrong with her - and that's fat-shaming.

Use whatever fancy, pretty word you like; the truth is, I'm fat. I'm also brunette, short, 42, white, hazel-eyed, and have a medium complexion. All of those things make up how I look - and all of them could be appealing, or not, to anyone who I encounter. So why is my weight the only thing that makes me "brave?" Or makes people question my confidence? Why is it the one thing that everyone feels the need to excuse?

That's the real problem. We are all conditioned to think that "fat" is an insult, rather than just another adjective used to describe someone. We, as a culture, have come to believe that fat is some sort of obstacle that people (particularly women) have to overcome. We look at a person who is overweight and assume they are unhappy, unhealthy, and struggling - in life, in relationships, in everything.

We believe this so whole-heartedly, without even realizing it, that we actually get offended when one person calls another person fat. Someone calls me fat, my friends jump to my defense. But if that same person called me short, it would be OK. Why? 

My friends believe that "fat" is a problem, and "short" isn't. My friends believe that with just that one word, someone has labeled me as the worst thing anyone can be. That's why they feel the need to defend and excuse my "fatness" (that's auto-corrected twice now, so apparently, it's an actual word). How dare someone say such a horrible thing about their friend?

But defending and excusing and explaining only reinforces the idea that "fat" is a problem.

That's the problem. Not the word fat - but what we've all been taught, and continue to teach, is its true meaning.

No argument here

Recently I've been in a couple of conflicts, with two unrelated people. In both cases, I came into the situation with a completely different perspective and recollection of what had happened to get us to the point of conflict.

Both were convinced I was in the wrong.  My views were "skewed." I was laying blame. I was being selfish, doing things only to make myself look good to others.

I disagreed with both. While I absolutely know I can be selfish, I truly didn't think I was in either case. While I do an awful lot to make myself look better, this comment had more to do with actions than a Sephora purchase. As for my views... I could have listed example after example in support.

My first inclination was to do just that. I wanted to rise to the argument, and defend my feelings, perspective, and actions. But I didn't.

Sue from a few years ago may have. She may have found herself in an all-out shouting match, making sure everyone understood exactly why she was right.

Present-day Sue just can't. I let that instinct settle, and then pass. Not just because I wanted to avoid the conflict, and not at all because I didn't want to stand up for myself. Definitely not because I thought I was wrong - it all came down to feelings, and I'm as entitled to mine as anyone.

I didn't argue because I honestly didn't see the point. Both people came at me prepared to fight. They were never going to back down. The louder I protested, the louder they would have argued. All that accomplishes is a bunch of yelling and no listening - which has never, ever solved a problem.

I guess I've come to realize that if someone doesn't care how you feel, simply speaking your mind more loudly isn't going to change theirs. It's not unlike raising your voice when speaking with someone who doesn't understand your language. You can repeat yourself as loudly and as often as you want - to them, you simply don't make sense.

So I never argued. I never defended myself. I let both people walk away thinking I'm selfish and awful and that I don't care. Which, is what they already thought anyway.

I'm not sure if that's me being selfish, lazy, or mature. You can decide for yourself - I won't argue.

Is thin privilege a thing?

I've been wanting to write about this for a while, but could never find the right words. A few weeks ago I stumbled upon this post about "thin privilege" that seems to hit the proverbial nail right on the head.

For anyone who doesn't know me, I'm definitely a plus-size woman. Call it curvy, BBW, big, fat, thick... whatever. I'm not thin. I struggled with my weight for years. I was taught that I would never be pretty or worthy of love unless I was thin. People (who supposedly cared about me) went out of their way to make me feel bad about how I looked to motivate me into losing weight so I'd finally be good enough. The irony, of course, was that the worse I felt, the less I cared about losing weight. (Something to consider if you think fat-shaming is an effective motivational tool.)

Then, a few years ago, I came to this realization that, while losing weight might be good for my health, that was no reason for me to see myself as inferior to my thin friends. I am just as "worthy" of love as my skinny peers, and I made a decision that I was done feeling like anything less.

But I don't subscribe to the idea that being confident in myself requires me to tear down my size-zero-sisters. Every woman, no matter her size, shape, height, color, etc, should feel beautiful.

Still, I remember the first time I heard a thin woman take exception to a "body-positive" message, I was confused. Didn't they understand that "real women have curves" isn't intended as an insult towards them, but as empowerment towards plus-size women? Don't they realize that we need that empowerment because we're all trying to overcome a feeling of being something less?

It occurs to me that maybe they don't. If a woman has always been thin, she has no idea what it's like to have been made fun of in school, or turned down for dates, or unable to buy clothes that fit. She has no concept of how it feels to be discriminated against because of her size. Phrases like "skinny bitch,"  or "eat a sandwich," might sound harsh, but they are actually used to express envy. "Thunder thighs," and "beached whale," on the other hand, are absolute insults. People are generally not envious of bigger women.

No one questions why a woman is thin. If someone is too thin, people immediately (and genuinely) worry about her health. Overweight women are labeled as lazy and gross and shoved to the side. Ever notice how plus-size clothing is shoved into a corner, in the back of the department? That's not a coincidence. Fat is something we're taught to equate with shame. Being thin should make you proud.

I'll never think body-shaming in any form is OK. No one should be made to feel bad about herself. But if you're wondering how there could possibly be such a thing as "thin privilege," there it is. It's found in not having to excuse your appearance, or find "flattering" outfits (since you're already beautiful). It's not having to worry that your blind date will get up and leave when he sees you, or worrying that you can fit into the bridesmaid dress your friend chooses.

The privilege is in always knowing that you were good enough, and not needing empowerment in the first place.

Beautiful

Most women don't think they're enough. Not pretty enough, thin enough, tall enough, smart enough, rich enough.... Whatever it is - in our heads, we're not enough.

We're even taught that if someone tells us we are {insert compliment}, we should deny the idea. "Oh, please - look at my butt/abs/thighs/hair/etc." How can we ever have a healthy self-esteem if we're tearing ourselves down, even when others try to build us up?

It has taken me a long time (plus a lot of tears, and a little counseling) to learn that I really am enough. I'll never be thin, and the tall ship sailed about 30 years ago. I definitely look better some days more than others, but I know that I have plenty more to offer - and it makes me more than enough.

This morning I ran across this post about changing women's inner voice, the one that tells us we're not enough. It got me thinking - what if we all started telling each other how we really see one another? How much better would the world be if every woman saw her own value? Knew her own worth?

The thing is - we women have to listen. It won't do any good to hear positive words if we shoot them down.

If you know a beautiful woman, tell her. Tell her why she's beautiful. Tell her how she makes you feel; tell her why she's valuable.

Ladies, if someone tells you you're beautiful - listen. Don't dismiss the idea. Really hear that person tell you why you're beautiful, and say thank you. Believe them - because they're right.

That would make the world a much more beautiful place.

Women first

I came across this post about women who have husbands and kids (found it here, actually).

For anyone who doesn't know, I'm divorced with no kids. I don't ever plan on having kids. It's not because I can't. It's not because I don't like kids. It's not even because of my career ambitions.

I've chosen not to have children because I think I'd make a lousy mom. I'm too selfish and impatient and immature to put another person's needs above my own for, like, the rest of my life.

People have often disagreed. I've heard, "You'd feel differently if you had a baby," dozens - maybe hundreds - of times.

I appreciate the vote of confidence. But I think that little experiment could be pretty risky. What if I have a child, and then it turns out I was right? Now some poor kid is saddled with the worst mom ever, all because someone thought I should be a mom?

Not acceptable. So instead, I have a cat. We're quite happy.

But just because I've chosen not to have kids doesn't mean I think it's OK to judge or degrade women who chose to be moms. The author of that post said:

We have baby showers and wedding parties as if it’s a huge accomplishment and cause for celebration to be able to get knocked up or find someone to walk down the aisle with. These aren’t accomplishments, they are actually super easy tasks, literally anyone can do them. They are the most common thing, ever, in the history of the world.

Is she nuts? I'll agree that finding someone to marry isn't that tough a task. Certainly, getting pregnant is no terrific accomplishment (in many cases, though I do know women who struggled to have children).

But we don't celebrate a woman having a wedding, or a baby. We celebrate a woman becoming a wife or a mother. A woman devoting her life to one person. A woman agreeing to put someone else's best interests ahead of her own. A woman vowing to love someone else until she dies - no matter what stupid crap he pulls. A woman taking on the monumental task of molding and shaping a child into, like, a whole person. Remembering to feed him everyday, and everything.

Those are not easy or common. At all.

Now - I'll admit plenty of celebrated marriages end in divorce [waves] and plenty of lousy moms get a shower. The point is, we're celebrating the intent, even if actual results may vary.

If someone does actually manage to be a good mom - she totally earned that party. If someone manages to stay married to the same guy for decades, without killing (or at least maming) him... the very least she deserves is some new dishes.

The writer goes on to say:

You will never have the time, energy, freedom or mobility to be exceptional if you have a husband and kids.

OK - that's just rude, in addition to being totally wrong. Some of the strongest women I know are moms (or soon will be). They are beautiful, exceptional, vital women who contribute more in most days than I bet this author could dare dream in a year.

I also know women without kids who just skate by. They offer very little of value, and accomplish nothing exceptional.

Of course, this goes both ways. Many times us non-moms are judged because of our choice. We're told we can't possibly understand, we don't know what "real" busy is, or we're all selfish people who hate kids and do nothing for anyone else.

My personal favorite is that my life must be "empty" without kids or a husband.

So - as it turns out, all moms aren't "common" and all non-moms aren't exceptional. Wives can be judgy and selfish, and non-wives can be caring and altruistic. So how are we supposed to tell anyone apart?!

Stop generalizing. Stop assigning women to types based on their choices or circumstances.

Start respecting differences. Start learning from others' experiences.

Most of all, stop tearing each other down. It does nothing to help us as women - and we're all women first.

Best years of your life

Found here

For Christmas, my dad gave me a 365 day Things Cats Teach Us calendar. It's on my desk at work, and each morning I flip the page to see what cute kitty picture and inspirational quote will cheer me on to 5 pm.

"The best years of your life are the ones in which you decide your problems are your own. You do not blame them on your mother, the ecology, or the president. You realize that you control your own destiny." ~ Albert Ellis

Some people think the best years of your life are when you're a little kid. No worries, no responsibility, and everything is new and exciting. You're not jaded. You don't yet know about heartbreak or loss, and everyday is a great day.

Some people think the best years of your life are your twenties. You [probably] don't have too much responsibility, and your whole life is still in front of you. You haven't yet felt time start to slip away, and it feels all you'll ever have is opportunity.

Some people think the best years of your life are your thirties. You have responsibility, but you've also started to figure out what you want, and need - and more importantly, how to get it. Life has taught you some things about loss, and hopefully you've learned how to collect the lessons and push forward.

I've been told that the best years of life happen in your forties. You're old enough to know what you want - and young enough to get it. (I'm counting on this being true!)

I like the idea that the best years can happen during any - or all - of these times. It's all about you and your attitude and what you're open to learning and understanding. Your quality of life has nothing to do with the date on the calendar or what problems you face, and everything to do with your attitude and how you manage.

The best years of my life started the day I realized I didn't know everything. I opened myself up to the possibility that people have as much (if not more) to teach me as I have to teach them. My best years started when I let go of blame and anger, accepted my faults, and set out to fix them.

My years keep getting better because each day is a new chance to remind myself that I may not be perfect - but I'm not so bad, either.

Always something

Have you ever heard someone say, "It's always something."

In my experience, it's usually an older woman, and she's usually shaking her head when she says the words. She usually just got bad news for herself, or heard a family member telling a sad story of his own.

I'm never really sure if she is saying it because she empathizes with someone going through a difficult time - or because she doesn't really care, but has nothing else to say, and feels like she needs to say something.

I heard it the other day, and I found myself wondering - why don't I hear people saying "it's always something" when they get good news or hear a happy story? Or is it just that some people always see the bad?

Like, if I tell them how I had a really nice weekend, that was quiet and peaceful. Or how I was able to hang out with Joe, enjoy my deck, and even get a little sun. Or if I share how canceled Friday plans turned into a lovely Sunday night. Or about my geat Sunday afternoon nap. Or even how when a few people did bug me, it was comical and I was able to laugh.

I'm sure some people would hear all that and think, "Oh that poor girl - she spent a weekend alone, getting stood up and napping with her cat! And a few people bothered her...I guess there's always something."

When the truth is, there really is always something - to be thankful for.

A wish for single friends

I'm just like anyone else (well, I mean, mostly). I believe relationships are a good thing, and a part of a happy life. The right relationship, anyway. I'm happily single, but I wouldn't mind finding a good, solid, healthy, happy relationship.

But until I do, I'm not going to just resign from being happy. There seems to be this popular opinion that everything in life is better when it's shared with a significant other.

Honestly, I resent the idea that I am somehow less of a person because I'm not one-half of a couple. I actually think that makes me more of a person...it takes a lot more strength to choose to stand on your own than it does to lean on the first person who comes along.

Besides, why does "someone to share things with" have to mean a significant other? If you have good friends and family, then you're never alone. Some of the best times of my life have been spent with friends - and not a date.


At a festival with no date -
and the flowers were still pretty.

But even when all my friends are busy, or when I just want to be alone - I'm not less happy. I still enjoy nice weather, good food, live music, movies, ballgames, parties - whatever I want. I can have the same fun that couples can (and often for half the cost). I don't even have to argue with anyone about what time we should get there, what time we should leave - or if we should even go at all.

I understand wanting a relationship - I'd like one myself. But people should want a relationship so that it can add to their happiness - not bring them happiness. Everyone sometimes feels lonely, and like something is missing. But you shouldn't always feel that way.

If you do, I wish I could wish it away. I would wish, instead, that you find peace and hope and happiness. I wish you find beauty in life and a million reasons to smile. If that means you need to find someone, then fine - that's my wish for you.

But how wonderful would it be if you could find all of that by yourself? There's truly nothing more empowering than realizing you can stand on your own - and also finding that, thanks to wonderful friends, you won't always have to.

As long as you enjoy your own company, you're never really alone.

It's been a while

I haven't been around in a while. Truth be told I was going through some stuff...and work was busy...and then I found West Wing on netflix and the whole thing fell apart.

(For Christmas, X bought me a blu-ray player that streams netflix, among other things. Genius.)

Also, I've been hoping I'd be able to move this little corner of the internet over to the Times Union's corner, so though I was working on some posts, I kinda wanted to save them in case that came to fruition. It hasn't (yet, anyway). I'm sure when/if it does, I'll have something to say.

I was going to do the NaBloPoMo February prompts to get myself back in the groove - but the theme is love and sex, which I don't talk about too much (here, anyway). Maybe I'll do March over here - but in the meantime...


found it here


...back to why I've been gone.

December and (much of) January were not easy. Did you ever have someone in your life who dragged you down? But you really like this person, so you were determined to keep him in your life because darn it, you can make anything work? Who you don't want to walk out on because he needs you, and you don't want to be the bad friend who wasn't there to help?

That was my December and January.

It took a lot of soul-searching and crying and guilt (stupid Catholic upbringing) but I finally figured out that it was OK for me to look out for myself. I remembered that it is perfectly acceptable to protect my own happiness and my own self-esteem (and frankly, my own safety), and doing so does not make me a bad person or friend. I reminded myself that it's better to be alone for the right reasons, then with someone for the wrong reasons.

So I drew a line in the sand a couple of weeks ago and said no more. No more tears, no more heartbreak, no more putting my life on hold waiting for something that was never going to happen.

I realized what I really want is better - and better is what I really deserve.

Resolve to be nice

OK, so we all know that a lot of people resolve to lose weight, get fit, etc. for New Years. If you go to a gym regularly (or even semi-regularly, like me) you know that means from January to about mid-March, the gym is extra-crowded.

I'll admit - if you're at the gym all the time, I can see why that could be annoying. I mean - you're always there, and you have your routine - and here comes all these annoying people to disrupt your place and your time.

But wait - it's not your gym, right?

Speaking from (ongoing) experience, it's tough enough to get motivated to go to the gym when it's the absolute last thing you want to do. It's even tougher when you know you're going to show up looking so much worse than so many other people - and tougher still when you know those people don't want you there, anyway.

The thing I find most amusing (read: annoying) is the people who complain about the "resolutioners" are often (not always) the same people who put down others for being overweight. Because, you know, all overweight people got that way by being lazy, self-indulgent slobs.

Just so we're all clear - you can't stand people who don't work out, think it means they're all lazy, and you have no problem saying "why don't you just lose weight?" - but you just don't want them doing that in a way that inconveniences you.

I get it - you consider yourself among those who workout hard, take care of yourself, and focus on fitness, and you consider all of that to be a positive way to live your life. I'm not saying you shouldn't be proud of that - I'm just saying, maybe consider sharing some of that positive attitude with those who could use a little encouragement?

I'm not suggesting you jump off your treadmill to make room for someone else, or do a cheer as you walk by someone new lifting weights. But you could keep the scowl to yourself, stick to the time limit for your machine (which, by the way, are always in effect, not just in January), and quit your bitching.

I have an idea - since you've already got this whole fitness thing licked - why not try making "be nicer to others" your New Years Resolution?

I promise, us nice people won't even grumble at you.

Hello, my name is...

"Maybe you have to let go of who you were to become who you will be." Sex and the City

In the car yesterday afternoon, I was thinking about how surprised people seem to be when they learn that Rock is a) my real last name (people often think it's made up) and b) my married last name - and I'm not married anymore.

I was trying to decide if I should write about the decision, and the apparent and unexpected fall-out, and the my friend Baking Suit posted this last week.. This is apparently a case of great minds thinking alike - and thus, this post was born.

I graduated college in 1996, engaged but not yet married. My last name was Ginett. Gi pronouned like give, nett prounounced like net. Prior to the commencement ceremony, graduates were asked to hand in an index card with our name written as we would like it pronounced as we walked across the stage. I wrote my name out; then I provided a phonetic spelling; then I provided examples of the correct pronunciation. My index card was given to an English professor with a PhD.

Who misprounounced my last name as I was handed my diploma.

I could not wait to get married and get rid of that last name. I love my family, and they are largely responsible for who I am as a person. But I wanted to be a Rock. Two years later, I would be.

Anyone who says that marriage doesn't change who you are has either never been married, or is living in a perpetual state of denial. I don't care how self-aware you are, if you lived together first, or what - being married changes you. Even just a teeny bit.

Since I married young, that was even more true for me. I hadn't even come into my own when I walked down the aisle, so I did a whole lotta changing in the ten years that followed.

Unfortunately, I learned that there was one thing that could change me more than marriage: Divorce. Four years later, I am most definitely not the same person I was when I got married, or even when the marriage started to end. But I am also not the same person who so happily marched down to the Social Security Office in July 1998 to begin the process of changing from a Ginett to a Rock.

So who the hell am I? Should I still be Sue Rock? Or go back to being Sue Ginett?

There was a time when I planned to change my name as soon as the ink was dry on my divorce papers. Of course that was also when I was angry with X, and dragging furniture to the end of the driveway on my own in a fit of...well....rage. Anger makes people do stupid things. I didn't need that bookcase, but I am very glad I didn't make any more lasting decisions while in that state of mind.

After things calmed down, and X and I started to develop a friendship, I saw things differently. Here are the factors that ultimately influenced my decision to keep my married name:

* Paperwork - I freaking hate it. Though it isn't terribly complicatd to legally change your name, getting it changed on bills, accounts, and even important documents (like the other diploma I received in 2008) is just a lot of work that I really don't want.

* Professional Branding - I'd already started blogging, networking, and other work, under this name. Changing it seemed like more of a hassle. Not to mention - Rock is just a cooler name than Ginett. Sorry, Dad - but it's true.

* Personal Branding - Most of my closest friends know me as Sue Rock (with a few exceptions). They'd probably keep referring to me that way, even if my name did change. So what's the point?

* Family Ties - X doesn't have a lot of family. My family loved him as though he was their own, and he loved them too. I can't speak for him, but I still consider X a part of my family (and I know my family feels the same). I feel like it's nice for him to have at least one other Rock around.

The bottom line is this: I came into who I am as a person with the last name Rock. It more closely identifies with who I am today, and I like the name. It's mine; I earned it, and I'm keeping it. So there.

Now, are there any circumstances under which I'd consider changing my name? I can think of only two:

Sue Jeter - has a nice ring, dontcha think?

* If X got remarried - Out of respect for the new Mrs. Rock, I might change my name, if it mattered to either of them. I doubt that it would (I'm not a Mrs., I'm a Ms., so she'd still be the only Mrs. X Rock around). But I'd be gracious enough to at least consider the change.

* If I got remarried - If I knew then what I know now, I'd never have changed my name in the first place - but I can't unring that bell. Still, I'd understand if my imaginary-future-husband (or as I like to call him, Derek) was uncomfortable with the idea that his wife's name was given to her by her ex-husband.

In that case, would I change my name to his, or just go back to my maiden name? I'm not sure. But I do know if I ever do this again, it will be the last time.

Anything to keep the paperwork to a minimum.

Sorta-wordless Wednesday

Not really wordless...but they're someone else's words, that I just find absolutely inspirational. Seems we could all use these reminders now and then.

A good friend pointed out that I accidentally scheduled my sorta-wordless post for Tuesday.

So, not only is it sorta-wordless - it's also Sorta-Wednesday! Bonus!

You're welcome.

Fat is not an insult

There really isn't anything like a four-year-old telling you, "You're fat." I swear I've never seen her mom's head swivel so fast, or a more angry look on her face. I didn't even have time to be upset, because all I could do was turn to the four-year-old and say, "Ooooo, you're in troublllllle...." Maturity - 1, Sue - 0

There's never a wrong time to teach kids that saying or doing mean things is not acceptable. But you know what I wonder?

Who decided "fat" was a mean thing to say?

No - seriously. I get that she may have thought she was making fun of me, and Mom had to correct her. Kids have to be taught there's a right and wrong time and place to say things, and also that there are some things you just shouldn't point out. This little girl doesn't have a mean bone in her body, and I know she felt bad that she may have hurt my feelings. I'm very sure she learned that lesson.

But if she thought that "fat" was a way to make fun of me - she had to have learned that from somewhere. Who decides which characteristics are negative, and which are positive? More importantly, who is passing on those decisions to the kids? She's observing something that is true. Maybe "fat" isn't the nicest way to phrase it - but I'm definitely not thin. And she's four - it's not like she's learned words like curvy, or plus-sized.

Really, it's not much different than if she says, "Your hair is brown and Mommy's is yellow." It's just an observation - and it's true.

Maybe sometimes, there needs to be a lesson about what words mean, and how much power they have. Maybe the idea is not to just teach kids not to say something - but why they shouldn't say something. Or maybe sometimes, the lesson should be that someone's differences aren't necessarily her flaws.

If the idea is to teach little girls not to insult each other by using the word "fat" - maybe the way to do that is to teach them that "fat" is not an insult.

Help myself by helping others

So, like I said - it's up to you to help yourself out of a depression. Whether you do it by asking your friends for help, going to a counselor, changing your diet and exercise routine, or adjusting your medication - it all starts with you. No one else can make the decision that you're going to help yourself.

During my whole deep-depression, a fabulous friend suggested that one way to help myself was to help others. Get involved; volunteer.

I thought about it. Then I thought about it some more. The more I thought - the more sense it made. What I need is a distraction; something to take my mind off of how sad I am, and give me a new focus. I need something to keep me busy; a reason to drag myself out of bed (when work just doesn't cut it) and face the day - especially on days when that's the last thing I want to do.

Volunteering does all of those things. As an added bonus - while I'm helping myself, others will also benefit.

But where to volunteer? My friend, naturally, had a few suggestions there, too. "You'd make a good mentor," she said. Now - I don't see myself as a great role model, but she is not the first person who has said that to me. They couldn't have all just been trying to be nice (right?!), so I started thinking that maybe it makes sense. I contacted Big Brothers, Big Sisters - and had an interview and orientation last week. That doesn't guarantee I'll be a match - but I'm excited at the possibility.

[SN: They really need volunteers right now - Littles are on a waiting list. Just sayin'...]


I also contacted a couple of other organizations - Girls Inc. and Upper Hudson Planned Parenthood. Both have some very interesting volunteer opportunities. I've been through the required training at Planned Parenthood and start on my first volunteer assignment in a couple weeks. I'll be interviewing with Girls Inc. later this week.

Why these organizations? My time is precious...even when I'm trying to fill it up any way I can. I want to be very careful about donating time (and money) to organizations that support causes important to me. Empowering girls, and teaching them to be strong, confident women is very important to me. So is encouraging and advocating for proper healthcare, and teaching women (and men) to make informed choices about their health.

Those things are important to me - and these are causes I can proudly stand behind. In the meantime - I'll be so busy, I won't have time to think about being sad.

That's the goal, anyway.

The nicest thing

There are a lot of nice things someone can say to you.

• You look nice today.
• I really like that hairstyle.
• I love that outfit.
• You did a great job on that project.
• I love how you decorate your house!
• Your kids are so cute/well-behaved.
• Your cats are precious. 
• What would you like for Christmas/your birthday?

I could go on. But by far, the nicest thing I think a person can say to you - especially when it's sincere - is: 

Are you losing weight?

So to the person who said that to me this weekend - you're the best. It won't be forgotten.

I've still got a long way to go, but it's nice to know I'm on the way.