Thongs For Toddlers

There are two physical versions of women in my family: The voluptuous, giant-boobed-Marilyn-Monroe looking-type and the flat-chested-vaguely-underfed-looking type.

I have always fallen into the latter category. But because I also grew up in a family that valued the size of your brain over the size of your bra, no one has ever held the size of my chest against me and as a result,  it's never bothered me much. In fact, as I get older it bothers me less and less. Boobs are just boobs, in the same way that an apple is just an apple. Whether you have them or not, it's really no big deal.

Maybe I'm completely naive for thinking this, but I like to think that not caring about my physical attributes (or lack thereof) will have a positive influence on my own daughter. Maybe if I can pull off that whole "leading by example" thing I always hear so much about, she will grow up to be comfortable with her own body, regardless of how it turns out.

There's just one problem. It's called society. And the internet. And crazy, whack job bloggers who are trying to get famous by calling themselves "conservative" and then proceeding to pitch the world's worst idea whose sole purpose is apparently exploiting young girls under the guise of doing something "cute" and "innocent".

Okay, that's more than one problem and I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me back up a bit.

This morning I was on the computer doing research for a completely unrelated story that I'm writing when a headline caught my eye: "Mom Says Victoria's Secret Okay for Tween". Curious, I clicked on it and, like most things I randomly click on, I immediately wished I hadn't.

Here's the short version of the story: A "mommy blogger" (I detest this phrase, by the way) made a big stink on the internet (i.e. a huge statement to garner attention that will lead to her eventual book deal) that her nine-year old daughter has no options when it comes to underwear and that there should be a tween (a phrase I detest even more than "mommy blogger") option at places like Victoria's Secret for little girls who (unfortunately this is a real quote) "Want cute panties and bras from the big girl store".

Good God, lady. Where to begin? First of all, I'd like to point out the fact that if you need to refer to it as a "big girl store" that means your daughter is too young to shop there. More importantly, a nine-year-old doesn't need a bra and won't need one for about three years. If she's lucky. If you are trying to make a valid point, you're not doing it very well. At all.

And in the grand scheme of people not knowing when to shut up, the madness was continued when she added that "No one wants to be the girl with ugly underwear" Interesting. Does your daughter walk around all day showing people her underwear? Because maybe you should be teaching her not to do that? Just a thought. Or better yet, maybe you should teach her that the focus of her world shouldn't be what's covering up her butt. Underneath her clothes. Where no one can see. Also, I would seriously like to meet these children who care so much about the underwear of their peers, mostly because I don't think they exist. Nice try, but I'm not really buying whatever point it is that you're trying to sell with that one.

Her next attempt at a point? "You see half naked women on the sides of a bus. It's part of our culture" Okay, sure. Our buses have been known to feature some scantily clad women. But the key word there? Women. Not nine-year-olds or tweens. Half-naked women. Also, while we're on the subject, that's some great reasoning you've got there. So when your kid asks to jump off a cliff you'll say "Sure, honey! Why not? All of your friends are doing it! And no one wants to be the kid in the ugly underwear who doesn't get to jump off a cliff! It's all part of our culture, so go for it"??

Listen, I'm not trying to tell someone how to raise their kids. But take a look around. Young girls are becoming sexualized every day. The already small window of childhood is getting narrower and narrower. Bodies, faces, chests, skin and clothes are constantly compared and found lacking. As difficult as it is to be a woman in this crazy, mixed up world, it's even harder to be a little girl growing up in a world where The Bachelor is considered a love story and Kim Kardashian is considered a celebrity. It's confusing. Instead of continuing to blur the fine line between childhood and adulthood, let's try making it more distinct. Perhaps we could start by not pronouncing ourselves "conservative" while mentally sketching all of the thongs for toddlers we plan on selling at Victoria's Secret. Just a thought.

My point is this: Growing up, 50% of my family could have done nothing but tell me that I was as flat-chested as a 12-year-old Kenyan boy and that I would never be sexy because of it. Thankfully, that's not how it panned out. Instead I was taught, rightfully, that my body's sole purpose of existence was so my smart ass mouth wouldn't look funny floating around by itself, flapping all day long to anyone who would stand still long enough to listen, and that this was a good thing. Value was placed on the right things. 

And absolutely no one cared what my underwear looked like.

The Wintern

I have really exciting news. But first, a confession.

There's no way to sugar-coat the fact that the life of a writer can be a difficult one. I like to make jokes about being rejected by every one under the sun, shamelessly self-promoting myself ad nauseum and how if my mom didn't read my blog, then no one would, but we all just know it's "Tears of a Clown" syndrome. I can laugh it off all I want, but it's only to save my dwindling sanity and faulty self-esteem. The truth is that the last few months I've had more "What am I doing and why am I doing it?" conversations with myself than ever before. The ugly shadow of doubt had become a regular presence in the corners of my mind. I began to question my motives, the way I was using my time, and whether I was doing nothing more than banging on a locked door. I couldn't shake the feeling that it was becoming harder and harder to catch a break.

Until I finally caught one.

Catching a break all kicked off as I was trolling Craig's List for houses a few weeks ago and wound up noticing a link for writing jobs at the very end of a long list of employment opportunities. I was intrigued and, despite the fact that I had never considered Craig's list for much of anything before, I found myself clicking on the link to see what I could see. There were only four jobs posted and only one that looked remotely appealing; An internship.

But here's the thing: I was immediately intimidated by the notion of an internship. Not because I'm such an awesome writer that I consider myself above an internship, but because I felt like I didn't fit the bill. I don't know about you guys, but when I think of the word "intern" I automatically think of a super smart and crazy energetic twenty-year-old, a la Rory Gilmore, who get internships at their boyfriend's father's newspaper, only to be told they suck as a writer, leading to an affluent, attractive girl's G-rated version of a nervous breakdown. That's an intern. Not a twenty-nine year old mother of two who drinks one hundred pots of coffee a day (mostly in vain) just to keep her eye lids at half-mast and makes obscure Gilmore Girl references.

Any other day I would have left it at that and gone about my business of using any means possible to distract myself from doing homework. Instead, I pushed my intern insecurities and fear of unavoidable murder as a result of answering a Craig's List ad (I watch Dateline, okay? I know what's up!) and applied. And amazingly, despite my utter lack of all things Rory Gilmore, I got it (and I didn't get shanked or turn into a walking Breaking Bad character, which is always a bonus).

I could stop this story right here and it would still be one of the coolest things that's ever happened to me. But in a rare twist of life imitating a Kate Hudson movie, it went uphill from here.

A quick question: What do you think of when you hear the word "intern"? Rory Gilmore references aside, I mostly think of a Hollywood stereotype version of someone running around making coffee and copies, getting very little experience in the actual field they're interning for and even less respect from everyone around them. In other words, in my mind the word "intern" is synonymous with the the phrase "Overworked, unpaid biotch" and I'm guessing my perception isn't too far off from everyone else's.

Fortunately, I'm happy to report that this particular internship is nothing like that.

The internship is with a brand-spankin' new online magazine called The ABQ Sun Post which, in a time where murders and rapes and various other scary events dominate your average news sources, will provide the world with positive news stories. That's right! Positive news! Remember that? Some very cruel (and very wrong) people may be quick to call it "fluff" news, but I beg to differ. Think of it this way: Your local news does a (terrifying) story about a bank robbery in which multiple people were shot an injured. During the shooting, a woman was using herself as a human shield to protect the children in the bank. We wouldn't write a story about the shooter (like most people would) we would write a story about the person who did the right thing at the right time. It isn't the obvious story, but it's the better story, the story that you have to dig a little deeper to find. It isn't as glamorous (aka bloody) as the other story, but it's much more meaningful. That's what we'll write about.

Hypothetical situations aside, this is what my internship boils down to: Two stories a week written and researched by yours truly with my name in the byline (AWESOME), the ability to work mostly from home (Super awesome), and a press pass (awesome, as long as I remember that it will probably NOT get me backstage at a Vampire Weekend concert in Denver, and will probably result in taking some pepper spray to the face. Which in case you're wondering, would totally be worth it). I will be writing about exceptional schools, programs and teachers around the city, as well as awesome kids who are making a difference in their community. It's going to rock. It's been a couple of weeks since I got this amazing opportunity and it still feels like a huge win for me.

Speaking of scoring a win, you may be wondering where the term "wintern" comes from and the short answer is that, regretfully, I don't exactly know. The long answer is that it was originally coined by a ridiculously cool guy whose band may or may not be responsible for pepper-spraying my face in the near future. The problem is, I forget the exact context he used the word (he says a lot of clever things, sometimes it's hard to keep up. But I try not to hold his plethora of clever against him). So in this case, "wintern" either means "winter intern" or "winning an internship" but either way, I feel like it applies to me. So I'm giving credit where credit is due, because the only thing worse that being pepper-sprayed in the eyeballs would be plagiarizing someone I admire. Unless of course one of the meanings is an Abbey Prentice original in which case, I should be writing your songs, buddy! Totally kidding, only one of us could find words to rhyme with horchata and it sure as hell wasn't me, so I think we're both right where we should be.

Anyway.

The ABQ Sun Post launches March 18th and I sincerely hope everyone will support it. I can't remember the last time I was this excited about anything, which includes finding out that Walter White's house on Breaking Bad is directly across the street from my friend's house. This is huge. And I feel, deep down in my bones, that this is going to be a game-changer, the event that sets all other events in motion.

Finally.