To go, advance, proceed, travel, move along, progress.

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

Everything Good.


 Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. -James 1:17

I forget the logistics of "everything good"
And so when I look at my life
My day
I tend to say
"Oh my marraige, and my kids, and well, I am breathing..."
When the reality is
In all actuality
"I opened my eyes this morning.
I stood from my bed, feet sturdy and
I walked downstairs, in this house that I live in.
I made myself some toast, because I have food to eat.
The toast didn't burn, and I had butter to spread across the top.
I took my two happy and healthy children to school,
A place they love and where they learn, in my car that runs perfectly
And looks cute too. I went for a jog where I was able to observe
Some of the littlest miracles in creation. I saw a green and yellow spotted
Caterpiller, something so little and simple, yet certainly not simple
At all. I moved so that my heart beat sped up, and oxygen and blood and
muscles all worked in accord with each other perfectly. I drank water.
It was clean and flavored with lemons that you made to grow
On trees. And here I am, writing, inspired to create,
Aware of how completely ridiculous I am
Most of the time....
And yet still you love me- and you remind me
That "everything good" means
Everything.

And I haven't even made it to lunch.

Thursday, April 18, 2013

Madmenology.





Madmenology: (mAD-men-OlOgy) A belief system by which the individual can maintain and increase personal happiness through the use of people and stuff; the idea that one is entitled to make oneself happy at the expense of others.

 
I was recently introduced to the show Mad Men, by my good friend Netflix. I would recommend it except it would be sort of like me recommending you start smoking crack. Not only is it highly addictive, but I am not sure it is very good for you. It may in fact, if one is not careful, lead to the deterioration of right thinking. After spending a good 7 hours glued to my flowered print sofa in my pajamas with greasy hair and no desire to move, it came to my attention that this particular program sort of represents a religion all its own but not much removed from our cultures religion...which is pretty much "Meism". I know the show is meant to play on and portray the gender roles, ideas of success and family in a time before now, but I can't help but notice that the only thing really all that different is the material items.
A light hearted view of the program would lead you into a place of romanticism and glamor. Cigarettes are glamorous. Extra marital affairs are exciting and fulfilling. Drinking is just what you do, no matter if it is or is not 5 o'clock somewhere. You are transported to a world of hourglass figures, well greased hair and pressed suits. It doesn't matter what is underlying because it's all just so damn glamorous. Everything about it immediately appeals to our flesh, and we want to devour it.
Lets look at our protagonist, Don Draper...
A mans man...handsome, wealthy, career oriented but took time to marry a flawless wife and produce two beautiful children, (a boy and a girl). He works in the city, lives in the suburbs in a colonial style home with richly textured wall coverings, a manicured lawn, and the most modern of amenities. Sounds lovely right? The perfect life. Except, all the man does is sleep with other women, smoke Lucky Strikes and drink expensive liquor. He takes what he wants, when he wants it, with no thought of the happiness of the people whom he seems to care about. He spends the night with one mistress and then goes home to a perfectly prepared meal, clean home, perfectly put together blond haired blue eyed wife and yet the man is clearly unhappy no matter WHERE he is. All the money and success and women in the world would not make Don Draper happy, you know how I know...cause he already has all of it and is a HOT MESS. He is the best of the modern American male. He couldn't ask for more, yet even if he did and he received it it still would not pacify the hole inside of him....but even so, men are still drawn into the idea of how wonderful it would be to BE him. Who wouldn't want to be the man with the money and the mistress and the looks and the job and the status.
Our own culture eats this up because we are still there. We want those things. We can put off the "dying on the inside" feeling if it means we can have all this other stuff and it is everywhere. Proof is in the pudding people. I am sure we all know more than one person like this in some sense of the word, ourselves being the first. What are you stuffing your internal hole with in order to maintain a sense of happiness and glamor? For real, ask yourself that. I could sit here for hours and disect all the crap I have stuffed in my "just keep swimming just keep swimming, yay, smile, life is dandy" hole.
We like the lie, because we have believed it for so long, and it is hard to teach an old dog new tricks. I have news for you, Don Draper....ain't no amount of money or women or success or aged bourbon gonna make you feel better because you are empty. You are lost and fighting tooth and nail to convince yourself otherwise.
Media is good at spoon feeding us what we like to see- people like us, full of themselves and their personal desires, living out the selfishness in romantic and exciting ways. Don't buy the lie- cigarettes cause cancer, daily drinking is actually alcoholism, extramarital affairs destroy families, a perfect figure is not a dictator of happiness or attractiveness and wealth/success means nothing when you are lonely and lost.

PS. I just finished the first season, and clearly there will be character change and development- if you watch this show currently and you leave a comment on this blog that in any way exposes or gives away something I have yet to see, I will hunt you down and force you to eat an entire roast beef while smoking and wearing a dress so tight you cant sit in it.

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

Don't Just Do It.

If you have ever read my blog you know my major issues with body image. Eating disorders, over exercising, consideration of plastic surgery...the list goes on and on.
A few weeks ago after much consideration I made an appointment with a plastic surgeon for a breast augmentation consult. I had completely convinced myself that it was justified and even necessary for me to feel good about myself. I have had two kids, Presley nursed the life out of my boobs and they would never be what they were or what I felt they should be. I am young! I shouldn't feel like I can't wear halter tops or strapless dresses! It is such a non evasive surgery, totally common, rarely complicated and totally popular. Just do it. That is what I was telling myself, as well as what family and close friends responded when I mentioned it to them. Granted, I didn't actually mention it to the handful of friends I have who would have put me in my place, because I didn't want to be in my place I wanted to act irrationally justified by the world I live in. You have to understand this is something I have talked about on and off for years, but only now was I serious enough that I made the consult appointment and was quite certain that when I went I would leave with an appointment date.
I was fighting every second of my real self, the God in me, telling me I was making a mistake. I kept reminding myself that it wasn't about having ridiculous eye grabbing boobs, it was "corrective" surgery, a way to restore something that was "damaged" by childbearing. I was imagining all the adorable sassy summer pj's I would buy and the bathing suits and the halter tops and the blah blah blah blah blah. And then it hit me.
This is the most ridiculous thing on the planet. Why do I care about my boobs? My husband, (though he was excited about the idea of big fake boobs), loves my boobs just as they are. The state they are in after bearing two of the most amazing kids on the planet have never turned him off or somehow caused intimacy issues. Quite the opposite actually. Why is it somehow all of a sudden "important" that I have some new halter top collection? Why can I not just find a bathing suit I am comfortable in with my boobs the way they are? How have I so totally been convincing myself that plastic SURGERY in order to have some man or woman's ideal breasts on my body is totally acceptable? MY body.
My body that is so far from perfection I cannot even tell you. I don't type fast enough to finish listing my imperfections before the sun goes down. I don't think blogger would let me write anything that long. In fact, my breasts aren't even my biggest insecurity. If I am going to have a boob job I really should throw in a tummy tuck because that S is a mess. In fact I might as well make that consult for a full "Mommy Makeover"! Lets just lift and tuck and suck and enhance everything because based on societies beauty ideals, I need it. Oh, and electrolysis. Lets be hairless while we are at it.
I can't do it anymore. I won't. Maybe, my body is exactly how God intended it to be after childbearing. Maybe if I was supposed to have big, high boobs my whole life I would have been designed that way. Maybe the changes in my body, at any age, that I somehow think are for the worst, are just Gods way of reminding me that it isn't all about me, and it certainly isn't all about how I LOOK. Maybe my physical imperfections should serve as a reminder that my husband loves and adores ME. Who I am, what I DO, how I THINK....and if that is true then who cares what any other man or woman thinks?
So I went from making a consult appointment 2 weeks ago to buying a bikini last night. It isn't tasteless or stringy or revealing but I haven't worn one since I was 18. I have stretch marks and cellulite, small breasts and wide hips. My tummy crinkles around my belly button from having been so enormous during pregnancies...but for the first time in my real adult, mother, wifey life- I put on the bathing suit and felt amazing. First bathing suit I tried on this year, a bikini, I bought it, and I cannot wait till summer.

"Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised." -Proverbs 31:30