10.24.2014

::SISTERS::


I am so pleased to have my fabulous sister, Lena, as a guest blogger this week.  She is my best friend in the whole wide world and since the moment we laid eyes on each other 20 years ago we have been silly, strong-willed, super fabulous girls!  Lena has overcome some of her own challenges and I asked her to share her perspective on living in a society that based worth on pants size and how that affected her self-worth and what she did to overcome the challenges.  I think you will find that she is f-rickin hilarious and we have similar writing styles and outlooks on life.  The moral of the story: we are who we are and our pants size doesn't determine our worth.  Enjoy & until next time, my lovelies! - R

I’ve never really thought of myself as a "blogger," but after my recent Facebook debut, I’ve been told otherwise. Raylynn has since asked me (more like insisted *cough—what?*) that I be a guest blogger. I must admit, this whole experience reminds me of the scene in "Princess Diaries" when Lily asks Mia to be a guest on her cable show. I would be the princess in that scenario. Yup. Just waitin’ for my castle. I suppose Raylynn can be a princess, too. We would definitely share a castle because I love my Raylynndy a lot! :-] Anyway, it’s not very often I get to drag my soap box out of my closet. Poor thing has been getting a bit dusty! Who am I kidding. This metaphorical soap box has been replaced several times due to wear….Let’s get down to business (Go on. You know you want to sing the rest. I did.). The purpose of Raylynn’s blog, that I’ve perceived, is to help all of us girls feel good about ourselves through self-empowerment and sexy outfits. If you think about it, those are our top necessities. They go hand-in-hand. Looking and feeling cute proves that we can handle anything the world throws at us. 

Growing up as a plus-sized gal in a toothpick-obsessed world has certainly been an adventure, not just for me, but all the S women. (Feels weird to consider myself among the ranks of the "women." It occasionally slips my mind that I am, in fact, an adult and have been such for a of couple years now….) High school had its tough moments because I wasn’t a walking paper cut waiting to happen.

Fitting in, overall, was hard. It wasn’t until high school was almost over when I discovered a way to try to fix my self-esteem problem. I joined Weight Watchers. Before I go any further, I’m not planning to go on and on about why losing weight is important and why everyone should do it. It was the right thing for me, though. I’ll delve more into that in a minute.

My "ah ha!" moment came during the summer before my senior year just prior to getting senior pictures done. I had a gorgeous black dress that I wanted to use for one of my outfits. I hadn’t worn it in a while; I bought it freshman year for Winter Formal. I decided to try it on first, before taking it to the studio. I couldn’t wait to wear it again! It was my "little black dress," so to speak. Little was right. I couldn’t zip it up. I was devastated. The dress that had made me feel so good about myself became my worst enemy. Something had to be done. Hence joining Weight Watchers. 100 pounds later (give or take—it fluctuates), I’m still not a toothpick. But you know what? I’m glad. I’ve come to appreciate my curves even more. In addition to the healthy habits I’ve acquired, the weight-loss journey has helped me discover my personality, as well as my style.

Personality-wise, I’m not nearly as shy and self-conscious as I used to be. (I have my weak points, but who doesn’t? Some situations I have yet to be brave enough to face without wanting to curl up into fetal position.) With this new-found confidence, I’ve discovered a lot about myself. I actually have social skills, for one. Another, totally unrelated, is my inner wanderlust. My confidence cup runneth over, so that’s where it runneth to, I guess. I want to travel SO BAD! England is at the top of the list and I am determined to get there someday. Hopefully, the rest of the world will follow. Apologies. I digress.

Style-wise, I feel a lot more motivated to look good and I feel more confident in my choices. To be perfectly honest, my style is hard to define. If I had to categorize it, I would probably say "geek chic" or "hot hipster." For instance, a couple weeks ago, I wore a maxi skirt and a Doctor Who t-shirt. An odd combination, to be sure, but it worked.  I wear what I feel like. Some days, I dress like a geek, others, a princess, and sometimes, an odd mixture of both. By the way, I now officially own my very own pair of hipster glasses and wear them with pride. Yeah, buddy!


No matter our style, ALL of us are supermodels. Don’t let society tell you otherwise. Many times I wish I could confront society as a whole and give it a hearty slap across the face (among other places) and tell it, in my roughest, toughest, mobster voice, "What the heck, society? What’s the sitch, here? Why you gotta be so rude? Don’t you know I’m human, too? (Love that song, by the way….) Don’t you know that my life is hard enough as it is without you turnin’ up your surgically-altered nose at me? Ain’t nobody got time for dat! You know what you are? You are selfish. You are controlling. You got no compassion! Well, you know what? I ain’t gonna take them shenanigans from you no more! I’m gonna be me because that’s who I’m s’posed to be! (CAN I GET AN AMEN!?)" Whew. Deep breaths, deep breaths….

Fortunately, though, society is slowly relaxing its death grip and ever so slowly becoming more accepting of the curvier gals. Just look at Adele, Meghan Trainer, or Mary Lambert (to name a few)! They’re rockin’ their curves and making bank in the process! "All About That Bass" and "Secrets" are two of my new favorite jams. They basically tell me that I can be awesome and curvy at the same time. I also love Bruno Mars’, "Just the Way You Are." That song is so empowering, especially since it’s a man’s point of view on how women should see themselves! We can be amazing just the way we are.  That’s the way it’s supposed to be. Don’t let your curves, or any self-image insecurity you may have, hold you back. You are unique, you are loved, and most importantly, you are a daughter of God. Rather than letting your imperfections hold you back, let them push you forward.



Peace out, girl scouts!

 
(The day it all began .... cut me some slack, I was 13 and awkward.)




10.20.2014

Whisper words of wisdom....

Last week I attended a women's business summit for my day job.  I've been looking forward to it since I signed up because I knew that having that many business women in one room was going to be electric and life-changing and that it was.  The biggest plus to conferences held by this company is the way they facilitate networking.  They have four break-out groups in a day and each is with different women and guided questions.  In preparation for the event, I read through my booklet and I knew what questions I was going to be answering with these women.  Phew.  They were deep.  But I live for deep.  I really do.  Quit the bullshit and tell me how you really feel, please.  So, going in, I knew this was going to bring out some vulnerability in me and there would likely be tears.  UGH.  Crying in public...something I try to avoid at all cost.  Breathe in, breath out, self.  It's just salty water coming out of your eyeballs and not the end of the world. 

The day came and groups started out going as planned.  Connections were made and I was feeling good.  Then break-out group numero 2 happened.  To say it was uncomfortable is an understatement.  The particular question for this group really spoke to me on a personal level so I put down my emotional wall and I voiced my concern (one that is on-going and deeply frustrating).  UGH.  Those women ATE.ME.ALIVE.  And not intentionally, but I just so happened to be at a table with a very Molly Utah Mormon woman and a very feminist, hippie woman.  Talk about getting it from both sides of the spectrum.  Holy moly.  However, one of my darling business associates was sitting next to me and after the group ended she pulled me aside, and said, "I know what you're going through.  I've been there.  Hang with it.  They will come back to you for being the constant in their life."  BIG SIGH OF RELIEF.  She and I have since exchanged a follow-up email and once again she said exactly what I needed to hear when I needed to hear it.  Bless her.  Bless her so very much. 

After lunch went down a little bit different.  Break-out group numero 3 was probably the most diverse group of women I met with all day.  A women's studies major/pilates studio owner, a community-trade jewelry company owner, a banker, a mom/super blogger, a quietly powerful woman, and me.  Here we go.  The conversation started out slow, but picked up speed.  When we arrived to the next question, it got quiet.  The question was this: What do you believe is the one true note you were destined to sing?  How do you help others find theirs? Crickets.... And then the banker started to talk.  With every bit of honesty in her heart she said, "I don't know what my song would be."  *speechless Raylynn*  At this point, I wanted to cry because my heart ached for someone her age who didn't know what her mantra or song really was.  How could someone go through life in a state of not knowing what they were destined to share with others?  And then the moment happened.  One that I will NEVER forget.  Earlier, she had told us that she was the proud mother of one daughter.  So, I said to her, "Ok,---, I want to ask you a question.  If your daughter was to call you RIGHT NOW, in tears, and stressed about life and the world, what would you tell her?"  Yep, I really said that out loud to a stranger.  And I looked her straight in the eye, cuz that's not intimidating at all.  And then the tears.  Not mine--HERS!  Oh crap, I made her cry.  Nope, I broke down her wall.  After thinking about it through tears she said, "I would tell her, "it's just stuff."  She then proceeded to tell us that her daughter has struggled deeply with depression and self-hate and bullying and that many times she has had to remind her that it is all stuff and that her mamma still loved her the most. 

At this point I shared with the group my song/mantra and that is "let it be and celebrate."  For my veteran blog followers and anyone who actually reads the title of le blog you will know that it's a big deal for me.  A montage of some really hard life lessons that I've learned as an adult.  When I shared that this was my song, I challenged each of the women to Google the lyrics of the classic Beatles hit, "Let It Be" and read every single word.  This song has an incredible story behind it.  It was mostly written by Paul McCartney and "Mary" was his mother.  She died when he was a young boy and he always missed her deeply.... Still does, I'm sure.  His oldest daughter is named after her.  He wrote this song as a tribute to her and a way to channel his on-going grieving.  I challenge all of you to do the same; read the lyrics...every single word.  Here is my favorite verse...verse 3. 

Let it be, let it be
Ah let it be, yeah let it be
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be
And when the night is cloudy
There is still a light that shines on me
Shine on until tomorrow, let it be
I wake up to the sound of music,
Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
Yeah let it be, let it be
Let it be, yeah let it be
Oh there will be an answer, let it be
Let it be, let it be
Let it be, yeah let it be
Oh there will be an answer, let it be
Let it be, let it be
Ah let it be, yeah let it be
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be.
 

And so I will say to each and every one of you, there IS still a light that shines on AND in you.  And you DO have a song to sing.  I know it!  And as hard as it may be some days to dig through the shit and muck of life; the realities of death, the rough patches in relationships, the stresses of careers, and the children who just will NOT listen or go to bed on time, there is still a light that shines so let it be and celebrate. 

The moral of the story:  There will be an answer, let it be. 

Until next time, my lovelies. 
-R

10.13.2014

And it just got real. Again.


I fight for pink in polka dots, sunshine and Chic Style Utah! And it's a holiday!

-- Update since my previous blog post --

Nothing quite like getting a text from a friend (who is sporting her pink today) letting me know that her sister-in-law was  just diagnosed with breast cancer THIS WEEK. God be with them. 

Fight for your life, my lovelies! Live for today. 

#wefight4pink

Fighting for pink.


I'll be the first to tell you, if you need to be told before noticing, that I was blessed with the good genes in the tatas department. I might also mention to you that it's actually a big pain in the ass at times.  They are a nuisance and get in the way. And I'm not going to lie, I have wished them away on numerous occasions.  However, I am reminded this month that there are too many humans who have not wished them away and yet somehow they win the gift of a chemo party and an unexpected boob job or they brush doom when they think they might have it. And we can't forget their families who face the terror, sadness and utter fear that always accompanies that bitch named cancer.  I decided it was time for a hashtag revolution so if you are reading this post, please take a moment to rock the pink and snap a photo with the tag #wefight4pink.  Anyone who posts on Instagram will be included in a fun contest for the most creative. 

So, let's talk about fighting.  I asked my friends and family to share some thoughts on a life changing moment that they had with someone they knew or with themselves regarding breast cancer. Grab a tissue, these are beautiful and heart-felt. Thank you to those who sent them in. I applaud all of you for bearing your soul. 

A: "I haven't told a lot of people about my own experience...was just screened for breast cancer. Turns out its just a cyst.  However, I was an emotional wreck for several days, since I had to wait over a long weekend to find out the results. 
Have lost a grandmother to breast cancer (hers spread to her liver as well) and have watched my mom and other grandmother brave the battle, manage the side effects of chemo/radiation and remain in remission. So glad you are doing a post about this."

C: “I accompanied a woman to a lumpectomy. She was in her early thirties and pretty alone in the world. She needed someone to help her face it and to care for her after the same-day surgery.  Once at home late that night, she was in a lot of physical pain. I wrapped her chest tightly in a huge makeshift ace-type bandage to help relieve her physical suffering.  I hope I never have to go through that.  The good news for her was that the tumor was benign.  Another woman, who I love very much, but from whom I was too far physically to be of any direct service, went through the same procedure only to learn that her tumor was malignant.  Knowing there’s a lump, and not knowing what the news will be when you wake up, is some of the worst anxiety there is.  Hearing good news in those first waking moments is like being given a second chance at life.  Hearing bad news feels like a death sentence.” 

M: "After my grandmother died and my mother was undergoing the treatment for the 2nd cancer, she told me that she was going to proudly be her age because she fought damn hard to get there. Never be afraid to get older she told me, many people don't get the chance."

J: "Nothing life changing, but just remember that men can get breast cancer too. P's dad had it a few years ago."

K. L.: "Not life changing as mortifying. My grandmother had a mastectomy and she had Alzheimer's.  So one morning at the breakfast table she lifted her shirt to ask what the bandages were for. Seeing grandma's one breast during breakfast was quite horrific."

A: "My mom died of breast cancer and something my brother said really helped me. He said that mom was not defined by her cancer and she wouldn't want us to dwell on it. However, she used the cancer to teach our family about service in a real hands-on way. Mom stopped being able to drive or do several things for herself as the cancer progressed. As a result, we, as her family, learned more about service through necessary, daily acts due to her condition in a more hands-on way than she ever could have taught us otherwise (short of another disease)."

I had the great opportunity to hear the founder of Happy Chemo speak at a women's luncheon here in Utah. Wow! She's an incredible woman and has created an alliance of awareness and support for cancer patients across the world. I highly encourage you to take a peek at their website ---here---

In closing I hope we will all remember this quote from the lovely Eleanor Roosevelt. 



The moral of the story: when life hands you lemons, an unexpected boob job and a chemo party, take courage and fight. Fight like hell. 

Until next time, my lovelies! 

-R







10.05.2014

Shit storms happen. Your sunshine will come.

One of the agricultural phenomenon that I have never understood is the practice of using animal feces, specifically the cow kind, as fertilizer.  Science has never been my strong suit so this isn't a lesson in the mechanics of this practice as a good thing. However, it IS an opportunity to share with you what I have learned in the thick of some of the shit storms of life.

Over the years I have had some days of fog and sadness. We all have! But it isn't until I'm in the land of sunshine again that I realize how incredibly blessed I am during the fog. Here are a few practices that helped me wade through it all.

1. Service. No matter how bad it EVER EVER EVER gets there is always someone who has it worse than us. If you don't believe me, call your local funeral parlor or the homeless shelter. During this last fog of mine I really jumped into service as a healing method. And the beauty of it is now I am on the Board for this organization and it continues to enrich my life. 

2. Journalling. This is a survival tactic I learned to love during therapy and ever since then my brain goes into organization mode as soon as pen hits paper and the healing transpires.  Most recently I have added art time to my journalling and I create word art of inspirational sayings that come to mind as I am writing. Art therapy at its finest. 

3. Inspirational reading material. Whether you're religious or not, finding reading material to inspire and lift you (scripture or otherwise) is critical. My favorite read is "The Art of Happiness" by The Dalai Lama and Howard C. Cutler, MD.  It is deep, but it is amazing.  The best way to describe it is a compilation of western medicine and eastern religion and how we can learn from both. It was life changing for me, especially working through mourning. 

4. Kid time. I am very blessed to have little people (aka cousins) that live close to me and love coming to play at my house and I theirs.  Many an impromptu trip to see these cute people to play trucks and blocks and watch movies and be showered with kisses and hugs.  

5. Music. In November I plan on doing an entire blog about this so I won't give away too much. But, I will say this.... My go-to bad day music may not be what you expect! But it does exist and it is glorious. My current vehicle has a great sound system so I've spent a lot of time driving and singing like a diva. 

Obviously this is a small snapshot of very difficult times of life.  The most difficult task when we are in the fog is trusting that what's in front of us is going to be a good thing and that when we are close enough to something good we will be able to see it.  And just like actual fog, some is thicker than others and even headlights don't help us get through and we have to take it slow until it eventually lifts.  As the days get shorter and the air is cooler I have a looming nervousness in the back of my mind because I know the struggle that the winter months bring for me. But, the more coping strategies I add to my life, the better I become.  And let me be clear that it doesn't make it go away completely. But, it does help me see past the shit feeling and get to work.  And the sunshine ALWAYS comes out after the storm. It has to! That's the way God created it. 

The moral of the story: there ARE silver linings in every storm, even if that storm smells a little icky. 

Until next time, my lovelies!

-R

10.02.2014

Anti-Buckets.

This week Ethel ... I mean Sarah B posted probably one of my ALL TIME favorite blog posts. In fact here it is.... Read it before you finish reading mine!


This blog post was inspired after she and I went to dinner because neither one of us have had stellar weeks and I had a gift card to Applebee's. We won't mention that I was crabby as hell... Oh wait .... As we were walking back to my car she totally did the "I'm too old for this" bit because of tired feet etc. and I had a few contributions of my own. So it only seems fair that I answer her back in my version of the Anti-Bucket List. 

1. Bungee jumping. Knowing me I would be the first person to ever smack the bridge and give reason for use of their liability insurance.

2. Pancakes from a box fed to my children or sticky, overcooked oatmeal. Nope. Ain't gonna happen. Some might call that damaged, I call it generational improvement.

3.  Body piercings. I had a traumatic enough experience with my conservative single ear holes. Don't need to make it worse. 

4. Driving over Bay Bridge alone. Oh heaven help me... The thought. I can hardly cross Pine View dam without having a panic attack.

5. Mini skirts as a regular wardrobe item. God did NOT send me Barbie thighs or calves. Plumpish does not support mini. 

6. Watching Blair Witch Project or Schindler's List. No explanation needed. 

7. Camp in the wild and the nude with a complete stranger. For realsies? This stuff actually exists and there is a tv show about it. Talk about a censored train wreck. 

8.  Karaoke whilst sober. Whoever thought karaoke at Mormon functions was a good idea clearly needs a reality check. In order to suffer through shit wannabe singing one must be roasted and toasted and I'm not talking sherbet and sprite roasted and toasted. 

9. Attend a live country music concert, especially Ms. Swift. That chick needs to get a life and quit singing about it. 

10. Kiss a boy I don't know. There is something to be said for the showing of affection via touching and the electricity it can cause. But in my world the electricity is in conservation mode until I know that the man I'm sharing it with knows me and I know him. And that he is ok with the fact that when he's not gettin lucky (of any degree) I'm an opinionated, sassy redhead who has to be damn sure he is worth it and doesn't have the flu.  

The moral of the story: I will never get old. Because that's totally related to all of this. I think. I can't remember. 

Until next time, my lovelies!
-R