Inked: my new literary tattoo

I got my first tattoo two years ago to celebrate receiving my Masters in Counseling.  It was a big deal, both the degree and the tattoo.  I have wanted a tattoo for at least 20 years, but resisted out of fear of what others think; honestly, the idea of the needle was scary, too.  My friend Corie, my partner in crime, and the Thelma to my Louise, went with me that first time, holding my hand both literally and figuratively. 

It’s true that once you get a tat you want more.  I fantasize about all of the tattoos I want and where I want them.  This new one is probably my last for a while, though.  My daughter Harper wants us to get mother daughter tattoos when she turns 18.  We’ll see how she feels in 5 years, but I would be honored to do that with my girl. 

My Instagram feed is full of photos from tattoo artists I follow.  I’m drawn to animals, books, teacups, anything literary, and words. I’m a word person.  My first tattoo is the word Ardently over a pink bow.  It’s from a Pride and Prejudice quote where Darcy says to Elizabeth, “Please allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”  It makes me swoon every time I read it.  The definition of ardently is devoted, passionate, with fervor and enthusiasm, a pretty good way to live, if you ask me. 

My second tattoo also had to be literary.  When deciding on a tattoo you want to be sure you will love it when you are 90.  My love for literature is eternal.  No worries there.  This time around I chose the words Wild and Precious, with a bow, because we all know my love for bows is also eternal.  The words are taken from the Mary Oliver poem The Summer Day.  The last line is “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” 

Wild and precious.  Both And. The forest grows both poison ivy and sweet fern, the plant which heals the poison ivy rash. Both And.  One of my clients recently told me she lives in the forest, the both and.  I try to live my life in that place, the forest, the both and: acknowledging both the good and bad in myself and all of us, the beauty and the awful.  It’s so easy to see life as black and white, and truthfully, I struggle with black and white thinking, especially about myself.  Rigid thinking, however, prevents us from living in the mystery, the grey, the forest.  Wild and precious reminds me that my life is at once untamed, absurd, rowdy, foolish, AND beloved, darling, dear, and treasured. 

Additionally, my work as a therapist is essentially asking my clients to tell me about their wild and precious life and then holding space for all of that wildness and all of that preciousness.  It’s meaningful work. 

Corie and I went together and both got tattoos this time.  She chose Come What May from Moulin Rouge, a gorgeous musical film, starring the gorgeous Ewan MacGregor.  Her tattoo stories are hers to tell.  I’m glad she is part of my story.  She held my hand again, distracted me, and made me laugh.

 I think it’s official: I’m a bad ass. Ha ha!  I’m a tattooed, bow wearing fashionista, hoping to live a wild and precious life.  With thanks to Mary Oliver and Thelma, I mean Corie.

Affectionately,

Rebecca

Crazy Cat Lady: if you can’t have them, wear them.

My closet looks like a zoo exploded and landed on my clothes:  dog sweaters, owl dresses, an owl purse, several fox sweaters, a whale sweater, too many bird shirts to count, deer dresses, a deer sweater, several deer t-shirts, bunnies in glasses on sweaters, a sweater with a bee and the word happy, and then there are cats.  Cat fashion is a thing, if you are me, and there must be others out there because there is no end to the cat clothing I can find when shopping.  I have cat dresses, sweaters, shirts, tights, and socks in multiples. 

It’s been 10 years since I’ve had kitties.  My daughter is allergic and my husband is not a fan.  To keep the peace in my marriage and to keep my daughter healthy, I’ve had to give up any dreams of having more kittens.  Since I can’t have them for a pet, I guess I’m reduced to wearing them.  Of course it’s not the same thing, but wearing a cute kitty on my shirt or dress makes me happy and fulfills my need for whimsy, two important criteria for my fashion decisions. 

Today’s outfit:

The kittycat top is from H&M.  I often find cute, whimsical animal prints at H&M.  I recently bought a bunny dress from there, and generally have to restrain myself from not buying every piece of critter clothing they carry.

My peep toe booties are Toms.  I get compliments on them every time I wear them.  They go with so much and they are very comfortable.  Win, win.

My jeans are American Eagle. No fancy designer jeans for me.  I find AE jeans to fit well, and they are comfortable.  Score.

The jewelry is Lenny and Eva.  If you haven’t heard of them, check out their website.  They have fun charms and you can build your own bracelet or necklace.  When I wear the Mississippi bracelet I feel like I’m wearing my heart on my sleeve.  You can take the girl out of Mississippi, etc.  The necklace is their bookworm mojocharm.  It has a tea cup, a book, glasses, and a tea bag.  This necklace was made for me.  Love. 

The bow is from Icing, it’s like Claire’s, but for teenagers.  I didn’t get that memo.

My cat eyeglasses are prescription by Kate Spade, perfect for a dash of sparkle.

Steve married me 14 years ago and saved me from becoming a crazy cat lady.  I still dress like it, though. 

Happy weekend, y'all!

Love always,

Rebecca

Weight, Weight Don't Tell Me Part 2: Eating Humble Pie

This is not really a post that excites me.  Who gets excited about eating humble pie?  Pumpkin pie, why yes, humble pie, no thank you.  You may recall me committing to giving up my scale for 30 days.  I was able to go 21 days, but could not make it the entire 30.  I had a freak out moment last week and begged, yes begged, my husband for the scale back.  When I said I would follow up about my experience, I truly thought I would a) make it to the 30 day mark, and b) gain some wisdom or at least some insights.  I did not accomplish a, but maybe there is hope for b.  We can always learn from our experiences, right?

The first few days of my experiment my morning routine felt very strange.  After all, each morning of my life for over 30 years has begun with stepping on the scales for better or worse.  By the third or fourth day I began to feel a freedom: my mood was no longer subject to the numbers on the scale.   We went on vacation to the coast.  It was definitely liberating to come home from a week of indulgence and not face the music of the scale. With the freedom came fear, though.  I found myself worrying that, if I’m not weighing daily, the weight will creep on

I really did try to listen to my body.  I let my clothes tell me how I was doing.  The first few days after vacation my jeans were tight.  This prompted me to eat cleaner and drink less.  I found myself happier not knowing my weight: ignorance is bliss.  Something shifted last week.  I overindulged over the long Labor Day weekend and started panicking that I was gaining a boat load of weight.  I considered going to the gym to weigh on their scale, but decided to beg the hubs to give me my scale back instead.  He acquiesced: happy wife, happy life, etc. 

I was afraid if I waited 7 more days, the agreed upon finished line, I would gain even more weight.  In psychological terms, this is called a cognitive distortion, believing something that is not true, usually to reinforce negative beliefs or emotions.  Mistaken belief: if I don’t weigh myself every day, I will gain weight.  Thus, my fear of my weight running amok caused me to give up on my challenge a week early.

In fact, when I weighed myself after 3 weeks I was up 2 lbs., but even I don’t consider that running amok, especially when one of those weeks was  vacation. 

I’m disappointed in myself, for sure.  I don’t want to fail at any challenge, particularly a self-imposed one.  It is time for some self-compassion.  Instead of beating myself up and berating myself, I pretend I’m talking to one of my friends who did not meet a challenge or who is unhappy with their weight, although the latter is much harder to pretend since most of my friends are skinny minis.  Just saying.  Anyway, here’s what I would say to a friend: “You tried, and that is what matters.”  “You are adorable just the way you are, darling.” “Don’t be so hard on yourself, sweetheart.” I’m working on saying those words of endearment and encouragement to myself. 

I am not ready to give up the scale entirely.  I still need it to keep me in check.  I need to work on listening to my body.  It is good about telling me it wants to eat clean, if I listen more closely.  This weight/body image thing is complex.  I’ve got a long way to go.  I didn’t get here, this place of obsession over my weight, overnight, and it is unlikely I will move on overnight or in 30 days.  The struggle is very real.    

One last insight, humble pie, unlike pumpkin, has zero calories.  J

Love,

Rebecca

Weight, Weight Don't Tell Me: or how I decided to give up my scale for 30 days.

My alarm goes off at 6:15 AM like it does most mornings.  The first thing I do when I get out of bed is weigh myself; or let’s be honest, I pee, since that may make the number on the scale a few ounces less.  I’ve been “good” for several days in a row, and by good I mean I have eaten a low calorie, low carb diet.  My hopes are up that I am on a downward trajectory, which will be a vast improvement over the upward climb of my weight this summer.  No such luck.  I’m up a half a pound.  WTH? My mood quickly turns south, and I start plotting out what I’m going to eat and not eat on this day to make up for my sins of the summer.  This is a typical day in my life.  Sigh.

I really don’t want to be the person the above paragraph describes.  I aspire to be a woman who is not emotionally held hostage to the number on the scale, who loves and accepts herself at any size, and who can finally let go of the cycle of basing her happiness and worth as a woman on the numbers she sees every morning of her life.

I’ve been on an emotional roller coaster of weight loss and gain my entire life, and the people who love me have unfortunately been along for the ride.  For years I was 20 – 30 lbs. overweight, which on my small frame felt and looked more like 50.  Nowadays, I struggle with 10 – 15 lbs.  I think there was one day in like 1999 when I wore a size 4 pair of jeans, and would you believe that it was the day after Thanksgiving spent at home in Mississippi?  Maybe I could have worn a size 2 the day before Thanksgiving that year.  If you think I’m joking, I’m not: I gain weight just by thinking about food.  I’ve probably gained a pound or two writing this paragraph. 

To make matters worse, I have two daughters who are growing up watching me weigh every day.  I try hard not to talk about dieting and weight in front of them, but privacy is not something I have yet experienced as a mom: my girls still come in and out of my bathroom. For them, a closed door may as well be an invitation for them to enter. They notice the daily weigh ins. I worry about what that does to their body image and their relationship to food and weight.  I want to be a role model for health, emotional and physical.  What messages am I sending them?  I do give them positive messages and try my best to model healthy behaviors, such as regular exercise and enjoying treats in moderation.  Our family motto is practically “will bike for treats”.  What’s not to love about that?  I’m far from perfect but I don’t think I’ve completely screwed them up.  Yet. 

I have clients who have deep struggles with their body image and their weight.  I sometimes feel like a fraud counseling them when I am also struggling with my own issues around my body.  I’m offering myself compassion for this one, though.  Counselors are human, too, and are not exempt from struggles and insecurities, far from it. 

After my weigh in this morning and my subsequent gloom over the half a pound gained, I decided something needs to give.  I’m worn out.  Can I go a day, a week, a month without weighing myself?  The thought of not having my daily weigh in panics me.  What if I gain a bunch of weight?  How will I know how I’m doing with my continuing battle?  Might this be an opportunity to listen intuitively to my body rather than allowing a scale to hold me hostage emotionally?  Ha! Can I allow myself to trust my body, not fight against it but actually listen to it, and perhaps even offer it, if not love, a truce?  I decide I’m ready to try. 

When my husband gets home from work I ask him if he would hide the scale from me for a month.  I didn’t have to ask him twice.  It was out of sight within 5 minutes of our conversation.  A few minutes later my good friend came over and I tell her my plan.  She tells my husband she will take the scale home with her in case I try to find it.  She knows me well.  She also tells him she has been telling me for years to ditch the scale.  I guess I wasn’t ready yet.  I’m not sure I’m ready now but I’ve committed.  No weighing until September 14.  Now that I’ve written about it and shared it, I have to stick to my guns. 

I will follow up in 30 days on how it goes.  Wish me luck!

Love y’all,

Rebecca

When life gives you lemons...

My heart has been heavy recently with news of a friend’s cancer returning; shootings that have become commonplace in our country; new construction in my area which decimated ancient trees and re-farmed, at least I hope so, beloved animals we liked to wave hello to; and with the general lack of courtesy and empathy seen all across social media.  Someone please remind me to stop reading comments on Facebook articles, the quickest way I know to get discouraged with humanity.  (Humans of New York is the one exception.  I read those Facebook comments to remind myself that people are good and kind, even online.  The series happening in Pakistan now, both the photos and the comments, simultaneously breaks my heart and makes it smile.)

My job as a mental health counselor tends to break my heart as well.  Over time I’ve learned to separate myself from the pain and trauma of my clients when I leave my office, but I wouldn’t be human if I wasn’t impacted by it, or at least I would not be a human I like.  I’m deeply moved by the stories of heartache, longing, despair, and resiliency people entrust me with.  Being a container, a safe place to hold emotions, for each of my clients feels like sacred work.  To provide a container able to handle others intense emotions, I have to find my own container, otherwise my emotions will spill out onto others in my life.  Since I’m far from perfect, that emotional spillage does happen of course, but I’ve found that at various points in my life my own therapy helps, as well as my clinical supervision.  Most importantly for me, though, is living life in relationship and living life with joy.  Friendship and fun are a couple of my ways of combatting the harsh realities and sadness of this world.  Enter tutus.

I ran my first race in 2010 in a green tutu.  It was the 5k Portland Shamrock run.  I have since sported a pink tutu for the Girlfriends half-marathon, a rainbow tutu for the Hippy Chick Half marathon, and a green and red one for a Christmas fun run, among others.  One of my mom’s friends saw my tutu pictures on Facebook and sent me a sign that says, when in doubt wear a tutu, which sounds like a great life philosophy to me.  For a variety of health reasons, I can’t run anymore, but I jump at the chance to wear a tutu.  I believe in sparkles, tutus, bows, glitter, and color, especially pink.  No, I’m not a 4 year old little girl.  I’m a grown woman who enjoys all things whimsical and fun.  It’s hard not be happy when you are wearing a tutu.  Just typing the word tutu makes me happy.

Yesterday I walked a 7k fun run with a great group of women.  They know my love of dress up and tutus and they actually trusted me to pick out our outfits.  We looked adorable.  I can say that since I’m talking about all 7 of us, right?  Plus, it’s true:  We rocked those tutus and sparkly skirts!  We registered as a team with the name Lemon Drop Ladies, so of course we had to have shirts that went with that theme.  What is life without a themed outfit?   That’s completely rhetorical, by the way.  These shirts and our skirts were conversation starters all evening, particularly when we left the event and headed to NW Portland for dinner and treats. 

The Lemon Drop Ladies

When life give you lemons add vodka!

Little Big Burger was a great treat after our 7K walk!

The outfits were fun but the time with friends laughing and catching up made the evening magical.  I liked the times we were all laughing and talking together, but I especially enjoyed that I had meaningful one on one conversations with all 6 women throughout the evening. 

I’ve learned that I need to be intentional about finding joy in life.  Here are a few things that bring me joy and fill me up:  Dressing up.  I’m planning my Halloween outfit now and there are a few other outfits I have up my sleeve: pun, bad as it is, intended.  Reading.  I am always reading.  It is sometimes hazardous to my health, (try walking down the stairs reading a Kindle book, or actually don’t) hazardous to my relationships, (Steve and the girls will readily attest to the many times they try to get my attention when I’m lost in a book. Sorry, not sorry, family) hazardous to my sleep, (I can’t pull an all-nighter anymore but I have stayed up long past by bedtime to finish a book I can’t put down.)  Family.  I get the most joy in life from the people I love and my girls and hubs are at the top of that list.  They make me laugh, keep me grounded, and remind me every day that I am loved and that I belong to them and they to me.  Friends.  Living in relationship is foundational for me.  I appreciate all of the friends in my life, especially the ones that love me for who I am and let me know them and love them for who they are. 

Want to wear a tutu and walk a 7k with us?  We are already planning next year’s outfit.  In the meantime, when life gives you lemons, just add vodka…and friends, and tutus.

           

Forever Young at Heart: Here's to geriatric starlets, friendship necklaces and Disney fashion

I recently saw the documentary Iris with a good friend who loves fashion as much as I do.  If you haven’t seen it yet, please do.  Iris Apfel is a 90 something fashionista, who calls herself a geriatric starlet, with a love for accessories and a collection to swoon and lust over.  Iris does not bow to anyone else’s style rules.  Her style is playful, whimsical, and entirely her own.  She wears what she wants and she looks great for any age.  I don’t think I stopped smiling once through the whole movie, and I, along with the sold out audience, clapped with joy at the end- such a well done film.  One of my favorite Iris Apfel quotes is: “I never had a fondness for gems or the extravagance of Harry Winston or Van Cleef & Arpels. I’ve always liked the more flamboyant, imaginative things. I lusted after costume jewelry. My husband was a very lucky man.”  Ha ha.  Honey, I hope you are reading this.  Imagine all the money I save you by buying costume jewelry rather than costly gems. ;)

Iris is a woman after my own heart.  I, too, have a style all my own.  People often say to me that they wish they could pull off what I’m wearing, or that only I can pull that off.  I am not sure if that is a compliment, but after hearing it many times throughout my life, I decided to take it as one.  Today I wore a dress that is fairly conservative for me, i.e. solid color, no print.  I met some folks I will be working with and several of them made comments about the flower in my hair, my dress, etc.  One of the gals said, “You have a Barbie look.”  She then said she meant that in a good way.  I assured her I took it in a good way, and I wanted to add, “Sugar, just you wait. This is tame by my standards.”  I decided to wait and let them figure that out over time, say in the next week or two. 

The outfit in the photo above is inspired by my love of all things Disney and by BFFs.  Lauren Conrad for Kohl’s has a Minnie Mouse line right now.  The shorts and blouse are from that cute line. If I was going to Disney Land, I would wear a black bow, to make it even more Minnie like, but for wearing around town in Portland, that may be a bit much, even for me.  The shoes were an impulse purchase today.  I met a friend at the shoe department at Nordstrom because is there really a better place than the shoe department at Nordstrom?   That is strictly a rhetorical question. My plan was to not buy anything but just to look.  My just look resolution was no match for these Vans from their Disney Young at Heart line. I had to have them, but I wondered to myself if I am able to pull off Disney princesses?  Fortunately, my friend Wendy was with me and she gave me the green light without hesitation.  She has the Donald Duck pair and we both agreed you are never too old for Donald, Mickey, Minnie, or the princesses.  This is one of the many reasons we are friends.  My outfit doesn’t really need a lot of jewelry.  However, Wendy stopped to show me an emoticon necklace from Kate Spade that made her think of me.  Omigosh!  Must have!  We each got a necklace, making them friendship necklaces.  You are absolutely never too old for friendship bracelets, rings, necklaces, etc.  Wendy’s charm says Tickled Pink on the back and mine says Saucy.  Perfect!  I felt like a little girl on a playground giving and receiving a friendship bracelet to/from her BFF. 

There you have it.  I love Disney, my friends, and fashion that is playful.  What do you love to wear?  Whatever it is you like, may you forever feel young at heart!

Love y’all,

Rebecca

Photo credits: Harper Putna except for Iris Apfel

Date night: What I'm wearing is less important than who I'm with.

            

    Steve and I had a date night with another couple last night.  I’d been looking forward to our double date all week, which usually includes me spending time thinking about and planning my date night outfit.  This past week was hectic and I was preoccupied with work, kids, home, etc. up until 45 minutes before we were set to leave.  As I did my makeup and hair, panic mounted when I realized I had nothing to wear.  Let’s be honest, it felt like I had nothing to wear.  My closet is full of clothes, but nothing was calling to me.  Spring weather in Portland can be tricky.  We have had many beautiful days this Spring, but yesterday was grey and cold, and also a little humid.  The temperature was too cold for my summer dresses and too warm for any winter clothes I have long grown tired of wearing anyway.  I like any opportunity I can to dress up for my husband, myself, and pretty much anyone else who crosses my path. It’s kind of my thing, but especially on a night out with my hubby.

                My 2 daughters helped me eliminate a couple of dresses, shoes, and jackets, and as time was running out I decided on the outfit I’m wearing in the photo.  None of what I am wearing is new or spectacular but my 12 year old told me that she loved my outfit and that I should write a fashion blog about it.  Thus, here we are: when my 12 year old speaks words of encouragement, I listen.  Usually I’m embarrassing or annoying her.   This outfit is not one I would typically blog about, but taking a cue from Harper, I realized that it does not have to be new or exciting to be date worthy. So I decided to embrace the outfit and mostly embrace my time with my husband and friends, and actually embrace my husband. J The outfit doesn’t make the date, time with the man I am married to does:  The man who took care of me half way during the date when I had an awful back spasm; (Ah, the joys of getting old) The man who traded his decaf latte for my pomegranate margarita at the end of the evening because the drink was too strong for me and his latte looked better.  He didn’t want to drink any more alcohol but he’s pretty selfless that way.

                Here is a rundown of my thrown together, last minute date night outfit: The dress is from Anthropologie and has never been worn.  I bought it the day after Christmas two or three years ago and got a screaming deal.  I heart the sale rack at Anthro the day after Christmas!  The denim jacket from Gap is also a few years old and is a basic for evenings when it is chilly but not cold.   The necklace is from White House Black Market a few months ago.  The Frye boots are one of my favorite things I own and were given to me by my husband for Christmas several years ago.  Frye boots make me swoon.  Like most of my bows, the cream bow is from Claire’s, and the mini bag is from the My Flat in London collection from Brighton.  I like how the necklace dresses up the outfit and the jacket and boots keep it from being too dressy. 

 My 12 year old taught me that I don’t have to wear something new and fancy, although that is definitely fun, to enjoy date night.  As usual, Steve was probably oblivious to the details of my outfit, but he was attuned to me. We enjoyed a fun evening with each other and our friends, and that is better than the perfect outfit, even for me.             

 “The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries, or the way she combs her hair. The beauty of a woman is seen in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where love resides. True beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul. It’s the caring that she lovingly gives, the passion that she shows and the beauty of a woman only grows with passing years.” Audrey Hepburn 

Love always,

Rebecca