When your kid loses his or her first tooth, it's one of those magical/horrifying moments in your parental life (magical in the sense that your baby is growing up, and horrifying for essentially the same reason). For Layla, the loss of her first tooth coincided neatly with a Tinkerbell fascination, so by the time the last root on that tiny little pearl of a tooth finally gave, she was well-informed of all things Tooth Fairy and was awaiting the arrival of a magical winged friend with the same level of sweaty, giddy anticipation that I usually reserve for awards shows hosted by Tina Fey. In other words, to say she was excited would be a massive understatement.
Wanting to make the most of this milestone moment, we really did up the whole tooth fairy charade. Not only did Layla get $10 for her first tooth (an absolutely ridiculous amount I know, despite all of the cost of living/tooth fairy inflation pseudo-rationalizations that I tried to make for myself at the time), she also got a small, gift-wrapped present, and a personalized note from the Tooth Fairy herself (that was typed because Layla is smart enough to recognize our handwriting) praising her for taking good care of her teeth and for being an all-around amazing kid. The whole thing was topped off with a generous sprinkling of glitter on her bedside table, to prove that not only had the the tooth fairy graced Layla with her presence, but that she was every bit as sparkly and wonderful as Disney movies and a child's overactive imagination (mine) had led her to believe.
And then, because life is great at throwing curve balls when you never see it coming, Layla proceeded to lose nine teeth. In six months. Suddenly I realized that I needed to rethink my math (no more inflation excuses) and to rethink this whole Tooth Fairy operation. And fast.
Now before you think that I'm just some cantankerous jerk who hates using the power of creativity and imagination (and presents) to make their child deliriously happy, hear me out:
I'll begin with some basic math: The average six to seven-year old has about twenty teeth. Twenty teeth times ten dollars a tooth comes out to $200. It's not that I'm cheap or anything, but at that rate, the Tooth Fairy was bound to end bankrupt and living under a bridge, hooked on Pixie Dust (pun intended and relished). Why this math didn't occur to me when I was deciding that it was a good idea to shell out ten bucks for her first tooth, I will never know. By by the time I figured it out, I consoled my inner-Scrooge McDuck by assuring myself that I had some time before the next tooth fell out to back-pedal a bit on the whole Tooth Fairy deal, giving us room to subtly scale back on the grandness of the whole thing.But of course, this didn't end up working out the way that I had planned (see above, re: massive number of teeth lost in record time). In fact, I scaled back so fast that I actually completely forgot to put anything out one night around tooth #7, sending Josh in to Layla's room at 6 AM under the guise of delivering an early good morning kiss as I tossed a few dollars on her night stand, praying she wouldn't notice (she didn't).
In fact, I slowly began to realize that Layla wasn't noticing any of the scaling back that we were doing. She was happily collecting her dollars, more concerned about the Build-A-Bear she was saving up for than the telltale, glitter-filled signs of the Tooth Fairy. Best of all, when all was said and done, the part she liked best was the sound and feeling of pulling her own teeth out (shudder). She said nothing about presents, or lack thereof.
Honestly, sometimes I don't think we give kids enough credit. Deep down, kids are wonderfully simple creatures who are happy with next to nothing (which is why every kid since the dawn of time has always had more fun with the boxes that their Christmas presents came than the actual presents). But because we want our kids to have a great life and also need interesting things to post on Facebook (I'm convinced that Pinterest exists precisely for these reasons), we can get to a point where we feel the need to constantly to overdue every little thing (I know I can). But there's a thin line (a very, very thin line) between making a fun, creative gesture that your kid will have fond memories of forever and setting your kids on the path to spoiled douche-baggery because they have no concept of managing their expectations.
Okay, it's entirely possible that I am thinking way too much into this way too soon. You should make a production out of everything if it's what you really want to do, but we should remember that kids don't necessarily require extravagance to be happy.
If all else fails, just give 'em an empty box if you don't believe me. You will rock their world.
Showing posts with label Tina Fey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tina Fey. Show all posts
Monday, June 30, 2014
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Day 2: Life Lessons From 30 Rock
If that sentence means nothing to you, then you probably haven't watched enough 30 Rock in your life and I am both really sad for you and more than willing to help you amend that problem. 30 Rock is my favorite show and I think that it's one of the funniest, smartest, most amazing show to have ever graced my eyeballs A big part of my love for 30 Rock is Tina Fey (Liz Lemon). Tina Fey is my hero. I would do anything to work for her, even if my job entailed lying across puddles so she could walk on my back and not get her shoes wet. I would be that person. And then I would brag about it in my Christmas newsletter (I don't actually have a Christmas newsletter, currently, but if I was Tina Fey's personal puddle coverer, you can bet I'd start one). And Tina is only one of the many talented people that worked for the show. Personally, I am equal parts awed and envious of the insane talent of every single 30 Rock writer and am probably making an idiot out of myself trying to impress one on Twitter as you read this. I would have killed to be one of those writers.
Unfortunately the show ended earlier this year, but it will always remain one of my favorites. Not only is it always hilarious, often ridiculous and frighteningly on-point, it has also provided me with many essential life lessons:
Lesson #10: Patience Is a Virtue
Lesson #9: The Art of Small Talk
Lesson #8: How To Get Out of Jury Duty
Lesson #7: The Importance of Proper Grammar
Lesson #6: You Are Nothing Without Your Principals
Lesson #5: How Corporate America Really Works
Lesson #4: The Importance Of Self-Respect
Lesson #3: It's Important To Maintain a Healthy Diet
Lesson #2: There Is Nothing More Disgusting Than The Word 'Lovers'
#1: We Are All Hopelessly Flawed
30 Rock. They did it all.
 |
| *Even Mr. Burns Loves Tina Fey |
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Will Write For Your Entertainment
Of all the things in the world I could have decided to be, I had to decide I wanted to be a writer.
Deciding to become a professional writer is a lot like deciding you want to become a professional baseball player. It's mind-bogglingly competitive, there are millions of people more talented (or more motivated) than you trying to do the same thing, and people tend to feign enthusiasm for your career choice, while secretly tallying up the odds of you ever making a career out of writing, baseball, underwater basket-weaving, or whatever highly unattainable career goal you're trying to reach. And unfortunately, being as this is real life and not The Hunger Games, the odds may not be ever in your favor.
I guess I must secretly be a half-glass-empty kind of person, because I constantly worry about those nagging odds and how much or little they might be in my favor when it comes to becoming a professional writer. Because I'm smart enough to know that talent does play into these odds, I spend a lot of my very limited free time trolling the blog world for both inspiration and to check out the competition. Since I'm still not completely sure what it is that I'm doing here exactly, I have no choice but to turn to the internet. Which, unless you're watching ridiculous sketches on Funny Or Die, is almost always a mistake.
The first thing that occurred to me through my extensive research is that if it's a "Mommy Blog" I'm trying to write here, then I'm going about it the wrong way. Step one, according to the internet, is to marry someone famous, have their children, and gain instant fame as a baby guru, with thousands following your blog. Well, okay...clearly I messed up step one. I could try to convince Josh to let me engage in some kind of reverse polygamy in which I have several (famous) husbands in addition to him, but let's face it: If I had more than one husband, they'd just form their own fantasy baseball league and I'd be stuck with even more laundry. Aside from the obvious fact that I love my husband and my husband alone, I just don't have the energy or time management skills for more than one. So clearly that option is out.
There's always the 'creep everyone out' route, as recently made famous by Alicia Silverstone, who recorded herself pre-chewing her baby's food and spitting it in the baby's mouth and successfully managed to gross out the entire world. While Ben and Layla are too old and my stomach is too weak for this option to ever come to fruition, I haven't ruled out trying it to see their reactions (but not filming it because if Alicia Silverstone has taught us anything, it's that we DO NOT want to see that).
Finally, I've noticed is that most of these "Mommy Blogs" chronicle their child's every move. I'm not talking about milestones or frustrations or any of the normal, run-of-the-mill baby things. I'm talking about the kind of over-sharing that involves telling your readers how many times a day your baby poops (There is actually a real blog where the writer does just this. Who would want to read that, you ask? Apparently the eighty-two people who subscribe to it do. I know. I don't get it either). These blogs not only scare the bejesus out of me, but serve as a reminder that while your children should be your top priority, I truly believe (for the sake of your own sanity as a human being) they shouldn't be the only thing you can think to talk about. I have a few friends who write delightful blogs about varying subjects and those blogs are a joy to read (mostly because they're not about poop. I have to deal with it enough, why read about it too?!) and yet, none of us are 'making it' as writers. But why?
My ongoing struggle with being a blogger (aside from the fact that I don't particularly enjoy referring to myself as a blogger) is that I want to build an audience and to try to get my best material out there, but I really have no idea how to go about this. I have a sneaking suspicion it's because I'm not 'hungry' enough. While I can easily pick out the internet crazies I can just as easily pick out the internet geniuses who are doing this so much better than I am. I consider throwing in the towel on a writing career daily, but then what? They say 'Those who cannot do teach' but what about those who cannot do and don't have patience to teach? What then? All I can picture is standing outside all of the major TV networks with a cardboard sign that reads 'Will write for your entertainment' with my resume/screenplay/novel/excerpts from my blog in my back pocket. It's not a pretty picture.
Unfortunately, my worries don't stop there. Currently my book club is reading 'The Psychopath Test' by Jon Ronson (which I would highly recommend) and according to the book, one of the classic characteristics of a psychopath is a lack of unrealistic long-term goals. Is wanting to be the next Tina Fey an unrealistic long-term goal? Because who wouldn't want to be this lady??
So let's review: I am trying to break into one of the world's most impossible professions, I married for love and not celebrity (which is only a mistake if you want to be a famous writer without having to do anything or have any real talent), and thanks to Jon Ronson, I now have a deep-rooted paranoia that I'm a psychopath (the blog stalking that I participate in on a daily basis does very little to dispute my psychopath theory, just in case anyone is wondering). Fantastic.
For now, if anyone needs me, I'll be scanning the internet for mommy blogs, writing lengthy, irrational-sounding emails to Jon Ronson about the state of my sanity, and checking out the mechanics of underwater basket-weaving as a back-up career. Wish me luck.
Deciding to become a professional writer is a lot like deciding you want to become a professional baseball player. It's mind-bogglingly competitive, there are millions of people more talented (or more motivated) than you trying to do the same thing, and people tend to feign enthusiasm for your career choice, while secretly tallying up the odds of you ever making a career out of writing, baseball, underwater basket-weaving, or whatever highly unattainable career goal you're trying to reach. And unfortunately, being as this is real life and not The Hunger Games, the odds may not be ever in your favor.
I guess I must secretly be a half-glass-empty kind of person, because I constantly worry about those nagging odds and how much or little they might be in my favor when it comes to becoming a professional writer. Because I'm smart enough to know that talent does play into these odds, I spend a lot of my very limited free time trolling the blog world for both inspiration and to check out the competition. Since I'm still not completely sure what it is that I'm doing here exactly, I have no choice but to turn to the internet. Which, unless you're watching ridiculous sketches on Funny Or Die, is almost always a mistake.
The first thing that occurred to me through my extensive research is that if it's a "Mommy Blog" I'm trying to write here, then I'm going about it the wrong way. Step one, according to the internet, is to marry someone famous, have their children, and gain instant fame as a baby guru, with thousands following your blog. Well, okay...clearly I messed up step one. I could try to convince Josh to let me engage in some kind of reverse polygamy in which I have several (famous) husbands in addition to him, but let's face it: If I had more than one husband, they'd just form their own fantasy baseball league and I'd be stuck with even more laundry. Aside from the obvious fact that I love my husband and my husband alone, I just don't have the energy or time management skills for more than one. So clearly that option is out.
There's always the 'creep everyone out' route, as recently made famous by Alicia Silverstone, who recorded herself pre-chewing her baby's food and spitting it in the baby's mouth and successfully managed to gross out the entire world. While Ben and Layla are too old and my stomach is too weak for this option to ever come to fruition, I haven't ruled out trying it to see their reactions (but not filming it because if Alicia Silverstone has taught us anything, it's that we DO NOT want to see that).
Finally, I've noticed is that most of these "Mommy Blogs" chronicle their child's every move. I'm not talking about milestones or frustrations or any of the normal, run-of-the-mill baby things. I'm talking about the kind of over-sharing that involves telling your readers how many times a day your baby poops (There is actually a real blog where the writer does just this. Who would want to read that, you ask? Apparently the eighty-two people who subscribe to it do. I know. I don't get it either). These blogs not only scare the bejesus out of me, but serve as a reminder that while your children should be your top priority, I truly believe (for the sake of your own sanity as a human being) they shouldn't be the only thing you can think to talk about. I have a few friends who write delightful blogs about varying subjects and those blogs are a joy to read (mostly because they're not about poop. I have to deal with it enough, why read about it too?!) and yet, none of us are 'making it' as writers. But why?
My ongoing struggle with being a blogger (aside from the fact that I don't particularly enjoy referring to myself as a blogger) is that I want to build an audience and to try to get my best material out there, but I really have no idea how to go about this. I have a sneaking suspicion it's because I'm not 'hungry' enough. While I can easily pick out the internet crazies I can just as easily pick out the internet geniuses who are doing this so much better than I am. I consider throwing in the towel on a writing career daily, but then what? They say 'Those who cannot do teach' but what about those who cannot do and don't have patience to teach? What then? All I can picture is standing outside all of the major TV networks with a cardboard sign that reads 'Will write for your entertainment' with my resume/screenplay/novel/excerpts from my blog in my back pocket. It's not a pretty picture.
Unfortunately, my worries don't stop there. Currently my book club is reading 'The Psychopath Test' by Jon Ronson (which I would highly recommend) and according to the book, one of the classic characteristics of a psychopath is a lack of unrealistic long-term goals. Is wanting to be the next Tina Fey an unrealistic long-term goal? Because who wouldn't want to be this lady??
For now, if anyone needs me, I'll be scanning the internet for mommy blogs, writing lengthy, irrational-sounding emails to Jon Ronson about the state of my sanity, and checking out the mechanics of underwater basket-weaving as a back-up career. Wish me luck.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Live From New York...It's Probably Never Going To Be Me
When I was in high school I wanted to be an actress. Retrospectively, what I actually wanted was an excuse to act like a total drama queen and get away with it, but of course I didn't know that at the time. What I did know was that I had a great memory for memorizing lines, I wasn't afraid of being in front of a crowd (or making a total idiot of myself in front of said crowd) and, most importantly, I was loud. I never got direction to speak up, but someone once told me they could hear me outside of the auditorium. I was also dramatic and could cry on cue, but to be fair, the same could be said of most seventeen-year-old girls. Other than that, I wasn't very good. I've heard that part of acting is reacting and I could never remember this once on stage. I mostly just spaced out and waited until it was my turn to say something. Needless to say, it didn't take long after high school to scratch "Award-Winning Actress" off of my list of dreams.
The reason I decided I wanted to be an actress in the first place was because of Saturday Night Live. This is hardly an original statement, especially if you've ever read the biographies of anyone who has ever acted on the show, but it's true. My obsession started in the Tina Fey/Jimmy Fallon/Amy Poehler days and I became convinced that being another hilarious actress on the show was the only job I would ever want.
My second semester of college, I took my first creative writing class and, to make the understatement of the century, it blew my mind. I've always liked to write, but up until that point I thought there had to be a formula for writing (as in: intro, body paragraphs, conclusion and all the other things that are relentlessly crammed down your throat in high school) and the freedom to write whatever I wanted was amazing. Suddenly I saw myself less in the funny girl-AmyPoehler-esque role and saw my dream in a whole new light. Why say funny things when you can write funny things that everyone else says? Frankly, everyone knows the writing is where the real talent is. Have you ever seen a movie that looked really amazing and had Academy Award winning actors in it, but completely sucked? I guarantee you it sucked because the writing was bad. It doesn't matter how good an actor is, that only goes so far when absolute crap is coming out of their mouths. All traces of ever wanting to become an actress were officially gone by that point. I wanted to be a writer. But not just any writer, an SNL writer.
Needless to say, it's been years since this realization and, unfortunately, a bit of a fruitless journey so far. But no matter how much time goes by, I continue to have my SNL daydream, which basically consists of an 80's movie style montage of me, Josh, and the kids frollicking around a really amazing city, doing cool things and hanging out with Andy Samberg, all set to that Jay-Z song about New York (I think it probably goes without saying that I don't have the greatest grasp on reality, but I at least redeem myself by being aware of it...right??). I have had the butterfly-inducing opportunity of meeting a couple of former SNL writers who all say the same thing: It's hard, continuous work where you spend a lot of time writing until 5 AM, the city is very expensive and frolicking intolerant, and it's actually pretty unlikely that I'd hang out with Andy Samberg.
But I don't care. It's still my dream and despite getting older, having kids, having responsibilities that tie me to where I am, or even having opportunities that take me in a different direction, I've never been able to give up on it. I don't want to give up on it. In other words, if I'm the show's first seventy-eight-year-old intern, that will be perfectly fine with me.
And if it never happens...that's okay too. I have a great life and family that I'm unbelievably proud of and even if it means I'll never become the next Tina Fey, I'm still satisfied with it.
But a girl can still dream...
The reason I decided I wanted to be an actress in the first place was because of Saturday Night Live. This is hardly an original statement, especially if you've ever read the biographies of anyone who has ever acted on the show, but it's true. My obsession started in the Tina Fey/Jimmy Fallon/Amy Poehler days and I became convinced that being another hilarious actress on the show was the only job I would ever want.
My second semester of college, I took my first creative writing class and, to make the understatement of the century, it blew my mind. I've always liked to write, but up until that point I thought there had to be a formula for writing (as in: intro, body paragraphs, conclusion and all the other things that are relentlessly crammed down your throat in high school) and the freedom to write whatever I wanted was amazing. Suddenly I saw myself less in the funny girl-AmyPoehler-esque role and saw my dream in a whole new light. Why say funny things when you can write funny things that everyone else says? Frankly, everyone knows the writing is where the real talent is. Have you ever seen a movie that looked really amazing and had Academy Award winning actors in it, but completely sucked? I guarantee you it sucked because the writing was bad. It doesn't matter how good an actor is, that only goes so far when absolute crap is coming out of their mouths. All traces of ever wanting to become an actress were officially gone by that point. I wanted to be a writer. But not just any writer, an SNL writer.
Needless to say, it's been years since this realization and, unfortunately, a bit of a fruitless journey so far. But no matter how much time goes by, I continue to have my SNL daydream, which basically consists of an 80's movie style montage of me, Josh, and the kids frollicking around a really amazing city, doing cool things and hanging out with Andy Samberg, all set to that Jay-Z song about New York (I think it probably goes without saying that I don't have the greatest grasp on reality, but I at least redeem myself by being aware of it...right??). I have had the butterfly-inducing opportunity of meeting a couple of former SNL writers who all say the same thing: It's hard, continuous work where you spend a lot of time writing until 5 AM, the city is very expensive and frolicking intolerant, and it's actually pretty unlikely that I'd hang out with Andy Samberg.
But I don't care. It's still my dream and despite getting older, having kids, having responsibilities that tie me to where I am, or even having opportunities that take me in a different direction, I've never been able to give up on it. I don't want to give up on it. In other words, if I'm the show's first seventy-eight-year-old intern, that will be perfectly fine with me.
And if it never happens...that's okay too. I have a great life and family that I'm unbelievably proud of and even if it means I'll never become the next Tina Fey, I'm still satisfied with it.
But a girl can still dream...
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
In Defense Of Jessica Alba
I have a confession to make. Besides my incredibly talented blogger friends, I almost never read any of the random blogs floating around out there. And yesterday I remembered why.
I stumbled across a blog completely by accident while browsing around one of my new favorite female-empowering websites (though the actual motives of this website, which shall remain nameless, are now seriously being questioned). Rather than put up a link to this garbage and force someone else to read it, I'll paraphrase it.
It was called "Another Person I'm Not Happy For: Jessica Alba" and went on to talk about how awful actress Jessica Alba is because she has two kids and a rockin' body. But what really irritated me was when the "writer" went on to say that she's jealous of the bodies of Victoria's Secret models, but "when they open their mouths to try speaking English it sounds like they’re coming off of a big dose of Anesthesia. None of the vowels work, and the more they talk the better I look next to them".
Okay...really?!
Don't get me wrong. I'm a woman who's had two kids and I'm just as self-conscious about my body as the next woman who has had two kids (or who hasn't had any kids at all, for that matter). But do you know what makes me feel better? Taking my kids outside and chasing them around. You know what doesn't make me feel better? Putting other people down.
As a woman, it's hard. We're trained to be critical of other women practically from birth. It's all one big competition. But the one thing I've learned over the past year is that it doesn't have to be that way. I repeat, It. Doesn't. Have. To. Be. That. Way.
Case in point: Last semester I was in the restroom at school washing my hands when a girl came out of the stall to wash her hands next to me. This girl was a knock-out in that make-up free, glowing skin kind of way that makes those of us who look like the troll that lives under the bridge first thing in the morning practically salivate with envy. To top it off, she was wearing one of those really cool wrap-around dresses in really bright colors that I probably couldn't even figure out how to put on, much less successfully pull off. Under ordinary circumstances, I probably would have done what I have spent the last twenty-seven years of my life doing (assume that because she's pretty, she's a bitch and continue to wash my hands with my head down) but I'd just come up with my book club's mission statement and a theory of my own; All of the "girl hate" with which we become so accustomed, is nothing more than a bad attitude and all in our heads. So instead of ignoring her, I decided to start practicing what I'd just started preaching and I told her I liked her dress (because I did) and I could never pull it off myself (because I couldn't).
She turned around, literally beamed at me and started thanking me profusely. We got to talking and it turns out her boyfriend told her he thought it was an ugly dress right before she walked out the door that morning and she'd been feeling awful all day (Just a side rant: Josh would wear a black polo shirt and jeans seven days a week if he thought he could get away with it. Unless he's gay, never listen to a guy when it comes to what you're wearing. Trust me, it's a waste of time). I refrained from suggesting she should dump her boyfriend and instead reinstated how great the dress was. No, we didn't become best friends (because life isn't a Taylor Swift video) but we talked long enough for me to be ten minutes late to class and whenever I saw her on campus the rest of the semester, we always smiled and waved.
My point is this: We live in an ugly world right now and it sickens me that so many people are not only okay with that, but seem hell-bent on making it uglier. The blog from the site-that-shall-remain-nameless was one of the most unnecessarily hateful things I've ever read. It didn't sound like it was written by an (allegedly) legitimate adult writer, but rather like it was written by a jealous sixth grader on the wall of a middle school bathroom in pink sharpie. I'm not really even a Jessica Alba fan to be honest and if the "writer" had written about how the last few Jessica Alba movies she's seen have been horrible and maybe Jessica Alba should consider a different career, there may have been a small amount of legitimacy to her point. In other words, if you feel the need to criticize, criticize the content, not the package it comes in. We can be better than that...I hope.
I'm far from perfect and I think that changing our attitudes towards each other takes a lot of time and effort. I hope that if you read the blog (which despite my rant, I still wouldn't suggest doing) your first thought isn't "Of course she has a perfect body, she has a nanny and a personal trainer" because a) We really don't know anything about anyone for an absolute fact, and b) Even if I personally had both a nanny and a trainer it wouldn't be enough to make me not want to sit on the couch and eat ice cream while watching The Simpsons every night. That kind of motivation is super-human, no matter who you are or what resources you have. Instead I say, kuddos to Jessica Alba, kuddos to my marathon-running friends, and kuddos to awesome women all over the world, whether you're staying healthy or doing something positive in the world. It's negative blogs like that one that have made me realize that you ladies are few and far between.
Finally, in the words of one of my own personal heroes, the gorgeous Tina Fey, "Calling somebody else fat won't make you any skinnier. Calling someone stupid doesn't make you any smarter. All you can do is solve the problem right in front of you". Amen, sister.
I stumbled across a blog completely by accident while browsing around one of my new favorite female-empowering websites (though the actual motives of this website, which shall remain nameless, are now seriously being questioned). Rather than put up a link to this garbage and force someone else to read it, I'll paraphrase it.
It was called "Another Person I'm Not Happy For: Jessica Alba" and went on to talk about how awful actress Jessica Alba is because she has two kids and a rockin' body. But what really irritated me was when the "writer" went on to say that she's jealous of the bodies of Victoria's Secret models, but "when they open their mouths to try speaking English it sounds like they’re coming off of a big dose of Anesthesia. None of the vowels work, and the more they talk the better I look next to them".
Okay...really?!
Don't get me wrong. I'm a woman who's had two kids and I'm just as self-conscious about my body as the next woman who has had two kids (or who hasn't had any kids at all, for that matter). But do you know what makes me feel better? Taking my kids outside and chasing them around. You know what doesn't make me feel better? Putting other people down.
As a woman, it's hard. We're trained to be critical of other women practically from birth. It's all one big competition. But the one thing I've learned over the past year is that it doesn't have to be that way. I repeat, It. Doesn't. Have. To. Be. That. Way.
Case in point: Last semester I was in the restroom at school washing my hands when a girl came out of the stall to wash her hands next to me. This girl was a knock-out in that make-up free, glowing skin kind of way that makes those of us who look like the troll that lives under the bridge first thing in the morning practically salivate with envy. To top it off, she was wearing one of those really cool wrap-around dresses in really bright colors that I probably couldn't even figure out how to put on, much less successfully pull off. Under ordinary circumstances, I probably would have done what I have spent the last twenty-seven years of my life doing (assume that because she's pretty, she's a bitch and continue to wash my hands with my head down) but I'd just come up with my book club's mission statement and a theory of my own; All of the "girl hate" with which we become so accustomed, is nothing more than a bad attitude and all in our heads. So instead of ignoring her, I decided to start practicing what I'd just started preaching and I told her I liked her dress (because I did) and I could never pull it off myself (because I couldn't).
She turned around, literally beamed at me and started thanking me profusely. We got to talking and it turns out her boyfriend told her he thought it was an ugly dress right before she walked out the door that morning and she'd been feeling awful all day (Just a side rant: Josh would wear a black polo shirt and jeans seven days a week if he thought he could get away with it. Unless he's gay, never listen to a guy when it comes to what you're wearing. Trust me, it's a waste of time). I refrained from suggesting she should dump her boyfriend and instead reinstated how great the dress was. No, we didn't become best friends (because life isn't a Taylor Swift video) but we talked long enough for me to be ten minutes late to class and whenever I saw her on campus the rest of the semester, we always smiled and waved.
My point is this: We live in an ugly world right now and it sickens me that so many people are not only okay with that, but seem hell-bent on making it uglier. The blog from the site-that-shall-remain-nameless was one of the most unnecessarily hateful things I've ever read. It didn't sound like it was written by an (allegedly) legitimate adult writer, but rather like it was written by a jealous sixth grader on the wall of a middle school bathroom in pink sharpie. I'm not really even a Jessica Alba fan to be honest and if the "writer" had written about how the last few Jessica Alba movies she's seen have been horrible and maybe Jessica Alba should consider a different career, there may have been a small amount of legitimacy to her point. In other words, if you feel the need to criticize, criticize the content, not the package it comes in. We can be better than that...I hope.
I'm far from perfect and I think that changing our attitudes towards each other takes a lot of time and effort. I hope that if you read the blog (which despite my rant, I still wouldn't suggest doing) your first thought isn't "Of course she has a perfect body, she has a nanny and a personal trainer" because a) We really don't know anything about anyone for an absolute fact, and b) Even if I personally had both a nanny and a trainer it wouldn't be enough to make me not want to sit on the couch and eat ice cream while watching The Simpsons every night. That kind of motivation is super-human, no matter who you are or what resources you have. Instead I say, kuddos to Jessica Alba, kuddos to my marathon-running friends, and kuddos to awesome women all over the world, whether you're staying healthy or doing something positive in the world. It's negative blogs like that one that have made me realize that you ladies are few and far between.
Finally, in the words of one of my own personal heroes, the gorgeous Tina Fey, "Calling somebody else fat won't make you any skinnier. Calling someone stupid doesn't make you any smarter. All you can do is solve the problem right in front of you". Amen, sister.
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