On Bullying, Fat Kids, and Fighting Back: It Only Takes One

Posted on March 4, 2013 | Leave a comment
old school disney pic

Me around age 9 or 10, clearly not like other kids

Recently I was invited by Huffington Post Live to talk on the subject of overweight kids, having been one myself and written about it for Babble.

The word “overweight” is so delicate, clinical. It doesn’t even begin to describe the reality of a child who lives it. The better word is fat. It’s cruel, it’s mean, it’s in your face. You can hide behind overweight; you can’t escape fat.

It was easy for me to be on camera and talk about having been overweight as a kid because people looking at me now wouldn’t necessarily think I have a problem. I went on camera and smiled; I felt confident. But then there’s this picture with Mickey. I brought it to work to show my co-workers the same week. I posted it on Facebook. When presenting the photo, I felt insecure, scared, ready for the laughs. I knew what would happen when I shared the photo — the same thing that happened when I was a kid. This time no one physically beat me or called me names, but inside I became the scared little girl awaiting judgment; waiting to be rejected based on my looks, my size. I confronted the fear and the uncomfortable feelings because that’s how fear is mitigated. And for so many years of my life I felt ashamed of my “fat kid” pictures, never wanting to share them with friends or love interests. I was ashamed of myself for years because no matter the changes on the outside, inside I’ve always been the same person. That person does not change as rapidly.

“When I ask her if she likes how she looks now, if she’s proud of what she’s accomplished, she says yes…Even so, the person she used to be still weighs on her. Tears of pain fill her eyes as she reflects on her yearlong journey. “That’s still me,” she says of her former self. “I’m not a different person just because I lost sixteen pounds.” I protest that, indeed, she is different. At this moment, that fat girl is a thing of the past. A tear rolls down her beautiful cheek, past the glued-in feather. “Just because it’s in the past,” she says, “doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”"

This is an excerpt from a Vogue article about Dara-Lynn Weiss, who decided to put her 7-year-old on a diet and go public about it. Her memoir, The Heavy, came out in January, and she was also on the HuffPo Live panel with me. (Ironically I had already interviewed her for Babble about her experience with her daughter, which completely mirrored the situation between my mother and myself.) 

I empathize with Dara and Bea because my mother and I lived through the same thing, except without the glare of public criticism. I’m happy that we were given an outlet to talk about our experience. I’m proud that I shared this photo. I never fought back as a kid, so I’m doing it now. Plus, if I can’t embrace who I am, how can I expect the same of others?

Today I watched the documentary Bully and want to quote a girl named Kelby who refuses to leave her small town despite the threats and attacks made upon her for being a lesbian:

“All it takes is for one person to stand up. You’re not just standing up for you , you’re standing up for all the kids who go through this every single day.”

Screen Shot 2013-03-03 at 12.05.59 PM

→ Leave a comment

Posted in attitude, pop culture, true story

Tagged , , , , ,

The Stealth Rate at Which Things Change

Posted on October 27, 2012 | Leave a comment

feet in the air I hung out with an old friend tonight. This month is her one-year wedding anniversary. When she started dating her now husband, I saw less of her than usual. It’s kind of an unspoken rule among single girls of a certain age that once there’s a significant other in the picture, that “other” will take your place at the movies, at restaurants, on trips, and on the couch — at least temporarily.

They moved in together, bought a car, and purchased a dog all within that first year. It all moved so fast, at least for me. (Who was this person that was taking away my girlfriend? I have lots of friends, but each one offers something unique and special in my life that I deem irreplaceable; I get weary of outsiders.) Then they were engaged and then there was a wedding to plan and with each new chapter  in her story, I told myself it was only temporary — this friend had just lost her mind; she was experiencing an interlude of insanity. Happens to the best of us, I rationalized, especially as we approach the ZOMG30s when pressure is on and clocks are ticking. She would be back at the singles table next to me in no time.

But then when I did see her, it always involved the new dog and the new man — we rarely got to spend a minute alone together. And then we drifted apart. The sacred conversations we once had during which secrets were exchanged and shame turned into something to laugh about, would now include a third person, or not happen at all. And tonight, on the anniversary of their marriage, I bought them a bottle of wine, toasted to their milestone, asked them about the moments in which they knew the other person was “the one,” and wished them love. This is what it means to no longer be a girl.

My friend and I met at 19 and now we’re on the verge of 32. Somehow her life has accelerated in a direction that mine has not and that I’m not sure I want to follow.  I’ve lost something and she’s gained something. But still I worry: Did she choose the right person? Did she make the right decision? Is he the best thing to happen to her? The truth is I may never really know because I can’t even make these decisions for myself in my own relationships; and because we don’t share secrets anymore.

→ Leave a comment

Posted in friendship, relationships

Tagged , , , ,

A Girl’s Name I Like

Posted on May 11, 2011 | 2 Comments

When Matthew McConaughey and Camila Alves named their baby girl “Vida,” I was under-whelmed. I had never heard of the name before (just like I had never heard of Apple and Audio Science) and it seemed just, well, eh. (By the way, I should mention here that I’ve been baby-name obsessed since the third grade when I used to keep a journal of names that I liked for my baby dolls. I don’t know why, but maybe it was the writer in me.)  But the distaste for the name Vida changed when I saw a little film by the name of Mildred Pierce — not the original starring Joan Crawford, but the HBO remake staring Cate Winslet. I never read the book by James M. Cain, but I totally loved the movie. (I’m highbrow like that.)

The film is about a chaotic and messy (to say the least) mother/daughter relationship. The mother Mildred is very strong-willed, independent and smart. In a time when women were taught to depend on a man (or take slave labor to survive The Depression), she struck out on her own and raised two girls. Working her way up from a waitress, she became an extremely successful restaurateur. But she wanted different for her children — she didn’t want them to ever have to wait tables, something her eldest, Veda, wouldn’t be caught dead doing anyway. Pride was a big deal in that family.

Veda is basically a spoiled brat. She’s selfish, she’s easily embarrassed by her mother, she wants not only to fit in with the wealthiest kids, but to rule their roost. Her natural beauty and artistic talents help her succeed at all these things. And she does some pretty awful things to her mother and to everyone else around her. Here’s a glimpse of her winning moments:

I can relate to both mother and daughter in this film. I understand the pain Mildred feels each time her daughter betrays and belittles her. I understand what it’s like to love and admire someone so much that you turn a blind eye to their deceitful and manipulative ways. Mildred keeps trusting and loving her daughter despite consistently getting burned. I don’t know the author’s original intent, but I can say for myself that I believe Mildred is drawn to Veda because Veda has something she doesn’t, a strength she’ll never have — the ability to take things from life without consequence. Mildred is both disgusted and in awe. There are a few people I feel this way about in my own life. But then, I understand Veda too.

The scenes of Veda as a young girl and teen resonate very strongly with me. I was that little girl throwing fits, embarrassed by my family, putting on airs, struggling to find my talent, my ticket out of banality — totally unappreciative of all that I had. I understand Veda’s desires come from a place of complete insecurity, an insecurity so deep the only way to fill it is to constantly win, to take everything she can. Insecurity is a monster that always needs to be fed. And Veda had the balls to feed it. So did Mildred, of course, but their approaches were completely different.

I told my mom the other day that my new favorite girl’s name is Vida. Like Mildred, I am drawn to people who have borderline narcissistic personality disorder and a generous touch of sociopathy. These are traits I was not born with. My problem is that I think too much about other people and feel too much about every little thing. How can I not be drawn to people who are so detached? Who can only focus on themselves? They’re like superheros to me. Somewhat ironically, Vida is also Spanish for “life” and Veda is Hindu for “knowledge and wisdom.”

→ 2 Comments

Posted in Uncategorized

Who Moved My Cheese?

Posted on April 9, 2011 | 3 Comments

who moved my cheese book cover I’ve never read the damn book but it poses an important question: Who the fuck moved my shit? My “shit” is not cheese, but it is a solid reason to get out of bed in the morning–job security, relationships, skinny jeans.

Anyone who told me my thirties are going to be the best years of my life deserves to be punched in the face. The day I turned 30, I went into a deep depressive state where the only thing that gave me solace was sitting on my bathroom floor listening to Billy Joel’s “Captain Jack” and “Allentown” on repeat. From there, I went on to break up with my boyfriend of two years–the one I thought was the one (we named our future children for christ’s sake)–and go back out into the dating world, which today consists of being “matched” by a computer with men by the names of Aruyn and LoveBoat69 and heights ranging from 5’4″ to 5’8″. I was 5’4″ in third grade!

But all of this was ok. Equipped with 50 milligrams of Prozac and a job that I loved going to each day, I was treading like an Olympian in the unknown tides of 30. I was so proud of myself (and thankful for a doc who realized after 30 minutes of meeting with me that my dosage needed to be upped); I was feeling happy despite the loss of a long-term relationship.  And then like Lot, who unlike me believed in a loving God, the universe decided to strike again. My boss at my beloved job decided to leave to pursue her next chapter. One loss is doable, but two? Is this supposed to make me believe in a loving God or in a god at all? Is Ashton Kutcher going to come out and say “you’ve been punked!”?

The one religion I’ve always been able to get down with is Buddhism and there’s a passage that always helps me get through transitional periods in my life: It’s about a man who uses a raft to cross a river–the foolish man carries the raft with him wherever he goes in case he needs to use it again. The wise man appreciates that the raft got him across the river but leaves it behind so as not to be burdened with it. After all, who says the same raft can get you across another river? I’m trying to use that quote right now but it’s not working. When change is sudden and unexpected it lets the air out of your tires. I’m driving around at half the speed I was a week ago. How do I fix that? I need more shit!

If I’m going to lose things like a boyfriend, a good boss, and jeans that I fit into, then I need to gain other things, good things. Right now I just feel like I’m being toyed with–just how much can I get through and still keep my head above water, stay away from the bottom?

I compare taking meds to being buoyed; I can see the beautiful sunny sky above and I can see the cold, dark depth below and stay in the middle of both. What I really want though, is to be anchored. I want a place where I can always dock, a place that will always be there–protection from the unpredictable sea that I know now is life.

The problem is, I can lose weight, I can run to the people I love and ask them never to leave, for things to never change and to stay good until I’m ready, but someone or something is always going to be moved.

*(I think today’s bookstore purchase will be Who Moved My Cheese?, after I finish Tina Fey’s Bossypants, of course.)

“Love lost, such a cost/Give me things that don’t get lost/Like a coin that won’t get tossed/Rolling home to you.”


→ 3 Comments

Posted in attitude, career, relationships, Uncategorized

Tagged , , , ,

30 Going on 13

Posted on December 5, 2010 | 2 Comments

“13 Going on 30” is one of my favorite girly movies. It’s a story about an awkward 13 year-old who wants nothing more than to be a grown up where everything is perfect. It’s kind of like the girl version of the movie “Big” in which Tom Hanks’ character makes a wish to be big and then has to figure out how to survive in the adult world when his wish comes true. Tomorrow, I turn 30 and I can’t help but feel like I’m still 13, trying to figure this all out.

The problem with turning 30 is that everyone, including myself, expects that you’ll have it all. In “13 Going on 30,” Jennifer Garner’s character hates being a kid so much that on her 13th birthday, she wishes she’ll turn 30 instead–the age when everything magically falls into place. At 30, she’ll have a man, a great job, cool friends, a wonderful closet and so on. And this is what I expected too.

My entire life I’ve always wanted to be older. I wanted the next big thing. As a kid, I, too looked up to women in their 20s and 30s thinking they had it all and I was bursting to get there. Then throughout my 20s, I worked my ass off to acquire all the must-haves: money, a good job, fashionable looks, and a man to get married to. Most of my 20s were so awful, I missed being a teenager.

Now, on the eve of my 30th birthday, I feel like I’m late for a very important deadline. My time to search for all the perfect puzzle pieces is up. At 30, I must already have the puzzle put together and ready for display. I look at other friends my age on Facebook–people I went to high school with, even grade school, and of course college, and a lot of them are married with children. I don’t have that. I hate nothing more than being behind. (Isn’t that why I always dreamt of being older?)

It doesn’t help that my job as a parenting editor reminds me every day of what I don’t have–optimum fertility and a family. These are the missing puzzle pieces and without them I feel like a failure. A few years ago, when I asked my sister-in-law what it felt like to be 30, she said, “well, I’m married and I have a baby, so I’m okay.” Thirty is the only birthday in which a woman goes down a mental checklist of a job accomplished. Christ, at 13, I was so freakin’ happy to finally be a teenager, I didn’t need to have met certain requirements to feel okay about it. (Well, other than accepting the hard truth that playing with dolls was no longer “cool.”)

So far, turning 30 has sucked. I threw a pricey party–the kind you send out expensive, handwritten invitations for–thinking that making a big deal about it would help me embrace it. Wrong. I just got mad at myself for spending so much money for a couple of hours with friends. I expected my boyfriend would make it all okay by getting down on one knee just so that I could enter 30 without feeling so bad. (And the more friends and family and associates push the expectation that he will, just makes it worse. So much worse.) The poor guy has been working around the clock and actually fell asleep toward the end of my fancy party. So many expectations unmet. Whether they’re fair or not doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m 30 and I can’t check off everything on the master list. If my sister-in-law asked me how I feel turning 30, I would say to her, “well, I’m not married and I don’t have a baby, so you tell me, how should I feel?”

Is it the fault of movies and pop culture? Why do women feel the need to have it all together by 30? I cannot be the only one who feels this impending doom and pressure. The pressure to deliver on things I have no control over is enough to make me snap. Luckily, I have an appointment with my therapist on my birthday. Part of me just wants to curl up in a ball, finish all the bottles of wine in my apartment and swallow a whole bunch of pills. I don’t want to die, but maybe a nice little overdose and a trip the hospital will make me feel like I’ve taken some action and act like some sort of public acknowledgment that I know I’ve missed my deadline and I’m not happy about it.

Those of you over 30 tell me: Where were you at 30? What did you wish you had had by then?

Those of you under 30, tell me: What do you hope you’ll have by then?

→ 2 Comments

Posted in attitude, pop culture, relationships, Uncategorized

Tagged , , , , , , ,

Life is Like Surfing

Posted on October 5, 2010 | 1 Comment

Every day I go to work and sit at my desk for at least 10 hours. I sit down at 9am and leave when the last person in the office starts locking up. I’m trying to prove something — to whom? I’m not exactly sure. During those hours of getting things done, I’m not alone. Sure, I’ve got coworkers, but I’ve also got something more important: a picture of a surfer riding an incredible wave.

The water in the picture is dark and the sky is cloudy, but the surfer stands in place focused and determined, grateful for the challenge.

As I knock on the door of 30, I look back and dissect a little bit and it seems throughout my life I’ve been up for a challenge. As soon as I feel comfortable somewhere, I decide it’s time to leave. Yet the minute I leave, I’m confused as to what the hell I was thinking. But I never quit.  I can tell you that I hated high school, but that I’m proud of the school I attended. I’d always wanted to go there and I got in. Would I have been happier someplace else? Maybe. But I was challenged and I struggled and I learned. And I survived. So when those quarterly donation requests come through the mail, I do something I swore I’d never do — I write a check to the school.

I’m not sure if I set myself up to fail or to get disappointed or if I truly believe I can do just about anything I want to. Three years ago, I left a secure job for another challenge (what we in business call a “better opportunity”). I was discontent at the status quo and it was time to shake things up. And boy did things get shaken. I lost my new job, I went back to freelancing and found myself at a place in my career I thought I’d never return — knocking on doors to get back in. But I kept going back out there.

Putting yourself out there is not unlike a surfer paddling beyond the shore to hunt for waves. The way I look at it, I got another new job (another challenge) and I’m going to ride this new wave whether I think I can make it or not. My 10+ hours per day is the equivalent of standing in place, focused and determined to ride it out.

→ 1 Comment

Posted in attitude, Uncategorized

Tagged , ,

Time to Make the Donuts

Posted on July 11, 2010 | 8 Comments

You know that feeling when you look at an up-escalator that isn’t working? Those silver metal stairs staring at you, mocking your laziness, leaving you with no choice but to climb them. Then you know how I’m feeling right now. I start (yet another) new job next week. (I write this with little more enthusiasm than that dude from the old Dunkin’ Donuts commercial who says: “time to make the donuts.”) I swear to you I have more experience on my resume than someone who’s at a senior level in their career despite the fact that I don’t yet have a senior title or salary.

When I graduated from college, I was ready to take on the magazine world. It took me two to three years before I landed my first full-time editorial assistant position at a magazine–a coveted entry-level job for which there are as many openings in New York as there are UFO sightings. In that three-year span, I witnessed some friends get lucky and some friends change careers. I considered myself one of the strong who survived and had a career that matched my $500,000 diploma. The reason why I survived can be found on my resume–I took as many freelance assistant, writing and research magazine jobs as I could get. This journey included calling hotels in Zimbabwe to confirm that Angelina Jolie had stayed there and checking the spelling of luxury golf courses. I even interviewed the rapper Jadakiss in person. (“Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!”) My resume became a patchwork of one-year stints here and six-months there. It’s certainly not how I pictured it would be. (“I had a dream my life would be so different from this hell I’m living“…)

Despite the arduous climb, there was a moment in time ever so briefly when I felt like I was soaring. When that editorial assistant job led to my first ever promotion, I felt more than a tinge of confidence. Finally my ship had set sail. And it was wonderful. Another year later, I landed an even better job for more money at a new place. Enter Career Ladder Phase Two and we’re off. I felt like I imagine Celine Dion felt when Ceasars Palace gave her her own performance venue in Vegas, except, like, I was in a cubicle. This company wanted me for the long haul and I was game. My days calling Zimbabwe were definitely long gone.

WRONG.

After six months at Career Ladder Phase Two I was laid-off and it was back to square one. So I did what I know best–I freelanced. I took stints here and there all the while trying to get back to where I felt…important and talented. The star of my own show. A cubicle with my name on it, a business card–all without an expiration date.

Alas, after multiple edit tests–(for those of you not in publishing, an edit test is given to a job applicant by a publication to test the applicant’s editing, writing and creativity as it pertains to that publication’s needs)–and rounds of interviews (and lots of tears) I got a real job offer (a.k.a. a staff position). It took exactly a year and a half, but I climbed my way back. So I should be excited, right? Relieved? Well, not really. I have the same feeling about this new job as someone who’s been recently divorced–I’m in no rush to remarry and go down THAT road again.

The office manager at my most recent permalance (another word for full-time freelance) gig used to make fun of me for never ordering office supplies while I worked there. For a year, I got by on what I could borrow. I didn’t want to get comfortable ’cause I never knew when I’d have to leave. It’s like moving in with someone and not bringing any of your stuff except maybe a pillow and a toothbrush. Pens, paper clips and Post-Its–these are the things that make a cube a home. But hey, play it as it lays.

The people at my new job have made it clear that they trust in my ability to meet their expectations as much as they’ve made it clear I still have a lot to learn. I’m nervous about this learning part. I hope it entails becoming the person I’ve always wanted to be and staying there awhile.

Whenever I start a new job, I listen to this song:

“I was born by the river in a little tent
Oh and just like the river I been a runnin’ ever since
It’s been a long, a long time coming but I know
A change gon’ come oh yes it will” – Sam Cooke

→ 8 Comments

Posted in attitude, career

Tagged , , , ,