Impossible to Ignore

Posted on March 12, 2014 by Real Women

boobiesSlightly more than 50% of the population have them, or some variation of them. Men revere them.  Babies need them.  Women worry about them.

Yes, I’m talking about mam’s, ta-tas, The Girls, boobies, breasts.  My apologies to any of my male readers out there who now feel uncomfortable.  Honestly, I gave great thought as to whether or not I was comfortable being rather public with this topic.  After all, even my Dad follows my blog.  (Sorry, Daddy).  But then I thought about how the media and medical professionals are encouraging us all to speak more openly about prostate health, the importance of regular colonoscopies for both sexes, and how we are now even subjected to tv commercials promoting Viagra.  So I decided that yes, in certain situations, we can be brave enough to venture into the topic of Ta-Ta’s.

We Real Women have a complex relationship with them.  Not only are we quite obviously physically attached, but emotionally attached as well.  They are arguably the most obvious symbol of our femininity.  If we have nice ones, or for those who have spent time and money to enhance them, we like to show them off.  Some of us nurse our children with them, forming an unbreakable bond.  We can’t help but admit that they were likely involved in at least the initial attraction we received from our partners.  After all, boobs seem to be to men what nectar is to hummingbirds.  They can be worn with pride.

However, many of us are less than thrilled with what we are blessed with above the waist.  There are those of us who wish we were more endowed while others of us wish we had less — and even go so far as to have reduction surgery.  As we age, and the perkiness dwindles, we begin to feel less enamored with how The Girls look. We get worried that they are too lopsided, that gravity has kicked in too much, that cleavage wrinkles are appearing.  We begin to wish we had worn more bikini’s and tank tops when we could, and had appreciated them more in our youth.

Beyond the questionable beauty of them (really, I often wonder what men find so fascinating about these sacks of glands), we of course have health to consider.  And therein lies a whole ‘nother land of worry.   After a certain age, we get into an annual or bi-annual routine of subjecting The Girls to analysis via unpleasant compression or other means.   I recently saw an amusing video that had been posted on FaceBook of two men who had allowed themselves to be strapped with electrodes in order to experience a simulation of the labor pains their wives had endured during child birth.  The results were eye-opening and painful for the men, but pretty darn funny for all moms.  Trust me, men, in a similar way, you don’t want to experience the discomfort of a mammogram.  At my most recent analysis I told the technician that her instructions to hold my breath were unnecessary – it already takes your breath away.

During this process of course is the inevitable wait in the little room, where we R.W.’s sit and hope for an “all is well, see you next year” instead of “the doctor would like to talk to you.”    According to the American Cancer Society, an estimated 296,000 women in the U.S. will be diagnosed with breast cancer this year.  1 in 8 women will be diagnosed in their lifetime.  1 in 8!  That number seems shocking until we each stop to think about the women in our lives.  Virtually every one of us knows someone who has waged that battle.   Even more eye-opening to me was my realization that out of my Personal Board of Directors, my group of BFF’s, EVERY ONE of us has had to have at least one biopsy or similar procedure to check on potential issues.  One of my BFFs, that “lucky #8”, has fought (and thankfully come out on top of) the cancer war.  Startling, yes.  But in many ways, comforting.  With one simple phone call or email, BFFs circle around with words of support, advice, and comfort any time one of us has to face a procedure and endure the wait for results. We recently joked about starting a club of those of us with implanted titanium chips.  We could call ourselves the Bionic Boobies.

There is no way to over-state the importance of routine exams.  I will put off seeing my general practitioner. I will delay getting to the dentist. However I never miss an OB/Gyn appointment or mammogram.  Certainly the check ups and procedures are no fun.  But the odds are too high, the opportunity for early detection too vital, to take our Real Women health too casually.

Regardless of what the men in our lives may believe, these Ta-Ta’s belong to us.  Love ‘em or not, it is our duty to take care of them.

 

 

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And So It Begins

Posted on March 6, 2014 by Real Women

greg hOne of the amazing traits in young children is their seemingly universal acceptance of each other. I love watching toddlers and pre-schoolers interact with each other. The playmates could be tall, short, wide, thin, purple, blue or green – it just doesn’t matter.  They are not yet tainted by any form of prejudice or unreasonable biases.  They operate on a philosophy of “If I get mad at you and cry, it is because you took one of my toys or I need a nap.  Otherwise you are A.O.K. in by book.”

Flash forward to the pre-teen and teen years.  That innocence starts to fade, and the kids start to form opinions, right or wrong, about each other. Middle school in particular is a cesspool of hormones, emerging individualities and tests of self confidence. Groups and cliques begin to form.  The good news is strong friendships begin and can last through their lifetimes.  The bad news is universal acceptance is no longer the norm.  Granted, you couldn’t pay me to be 13 again.  Well, unless of course, I could be 13 and already armed with what I know now.

As a general rule, most young teens are not inherently “bad” kids.  As a matter of fact, most are pretty amazing. They are just struggling to find their way in the transition from little kid to young adult, forming their personalities and interests that will carry them through high school and beyond.  Naturally I’m biased, but my son is pretty awesome.  He’s smart, funny, and overall a really good kid.  Our biggest issue with him, like so many others, is his apparent addiction to electronic screens of all kinds.  And, like all others in his age range, he’s becoming a “typical teen.”  He gets moody and mopey from time to time, doesn’t want to do his chores, finds humor in things we just don’t understand, and can’t possibly consume enough food in one day.  I had to laugh recently when he posted “ Rules of My Room” on his bedroom door, most of which involved his privacy and could we PLEASE remember to close his door when we exit.

Despite the ever changing teen attitude, we noticed recently that his outlook on school had changed a bit. It had veered off from being “an inconvenience that keeps me from other things I’d rather be doing” to “I hate it.”  Moodiness or not, coming from him, that seemed pretty harsh.

About a week ago, after a particularly cranky evening, I ventured into his inner sanctum (bedroom) to attempt to get to the bottom of whatever was eating at him. Now, I have come to believe that talking to a teen boy is like an archeological dig.  Best done carefully, casually, gently wiping away the layers, preferably working side by side with limited eye contact.  If you dig too hard and too fast, you run the risk of it all falling apart, and walking away not getting what you were looking for.

Luck was with me that night, and after a few “I dunno” answers, my digging uncovered the gold nugget and he fessed up.  A boy in several of his classes, who happened to have a locker right next to him, had been picking on him with name calling.  The name itself wasn’t really the issue (honestly, I didn’t even understand it, it was made up words that rhymed), but it was the repetitive, taunting way it was used, and the fact the kid had even developed an obnoxious child-like song to accompany it.

Now from what we could tell, there hadn’t been any major event that had started this issue.  The taunter was shorter and smaller than my son, and there had been no initial argument to kick it off.  But for whatever reason, this boy targeted my son.  My son was clearly very upset about the situation, after he finally unveiled it to us.  I asked him why he hadn’t said anything sooner, reminding him that his school is strongly “anti-bullying.”  He said he didn’t think it was a “big enough” deal, that it didn’t really constitute bullying.  Ok, so it hadn’t gotten to the point where the kid was attempting to physically push my son around, and it wasn’t an issue of rampant cyber-bullying and rumor spreading…but it certainly was something that needed to stop.

We asked him how he reacted when the kid did this taunting. He replied “mostly just stand there and take it.”  Then he said “well….accept…. promise you won’t get mad at me?”  We braced ourselves for what he was about to say.  Then he confessed that one day, during gym class, when he couldn’t take it anymore from this kid, our son called him a prick and kicked him in the shin.   Maybe I’m a bad mom, but part of me inside was saying “Bravo!” and wanted to laugh.  Luckily I held back.

The resolution, happily, was easy.  The next morning my husband and I went to see the vice principal with our son, explained the situation, and by that afternoon we received a call that the boy had been talked to, along with some of his friends, they fessed up, the parents were called, and strict punishment was promised if it continued. So far, all has been quiet since.  And that, in a way, shows the beauty of Middle School and that age.  When they are called out, know they are in the wrong, they straighten out and fly right – at least for a while.

However, this whole small event was eye-opening to me.  It made me wonder, was it really like this when we were kids?  Was there such an issue with bullying during our youth?  Were we that mean to each other?  I don’t remember it being that way.  I think in our day, we all certainly had our own groups and cliques, and we just avoided anyone who wasn’t within our group.  But for the most part, I really don’t remember being purposefully rude to others.

But more importantly, it made me think “and so it begins.”  That cute little blond toddler and pre-schooler boy of mine who used to play happily along side any other child is now having to find his own boundaries and learn that life isn’t always as easy as sharing toys.  That there are going to be challenges with others, there are going to be mean people in his life.  And I pray that it doesn’t taint him, that he continues on a good path to be as open, caring and accepting of others as possible.

I wish I could gather all teenagers together and show them a future mirror.  Flash them forward to 20 years down the road when they will be at a high school reunion and realize they are all on the same playing field. They will all be gaining weight and losing hair, all working hard trying to do the best for their families, all following their dreams or at least trying to have successful careers…and once again, moving back to universal acceptance of each other.   Eventually, in our adult lives, we come full circle – and those cliques, those warped opinions, the whole concern over who’s cooler than who – that just doesn’t matter.  Just like in pre-school.

But until then, we just have to strap ourselves in for the bumpy ride through the teen years and hope we all come out on the other end a bit dizzy, but smiling.

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in age, Kids, moods, Relationships | Tagged , , , , | 4 Comments

We’ve Got Our Reasons

Posted on March 4, 2014 by Real Women

hibernation bearAccording to WebMD, symptoms of seasonal affective disorder include: sadness, moodiness, anxiety, loss of interest in usual activities, eating more, craving carbohydrates, weight gain and fatigue.

This winter, ¾ of the country has been affected by unusually cold temperatures and heavy snow fall during the darkest months of the year.

Symptoms of PMS and Perimenopause include mood swings, headaches, weight gain, bloating, hot flashes and fatigue.

 There are approximately 60 million women in the United States between the ages of 30 – 60.

Ruh-roh.  It’s the perfect storm.

The good news is we R.W.’s aren’t crazy.  There are apparently real reasons we are sad and cranky, looking pasty and fat, and feeling exhausted.  More good news: we aren’t alone.  We are all in this together.

The bad news:  There’s not a whole heck of a lot we can do about it.  Except wait for spring…and menopause.

Nearly every R.W. I have talked to lately has shared either that they are at the end of the rope of their patience with the winter weather, are feeling like whales from weight gain, complain of having no energy, or are just plain depressed.  Or, likely, all of the above.

There are plenty of perky “professionals” in the media with tips on how to deal with how we are feeling.  This morning I heard one say that “whatever we feel least like doing is what we should be doing.”  So, for example, get up and go exercise, or get dressed up and go to a party, or go out in that cold and enjoy frozen nature.  Sure, ok, easy to say.  Much easier to ignore it and go back to hiding under our blankets.

We are all finding our ways to cope.  Some are running away to vacations in Florida, which appears to be the only state right now not dealing with cold, ice, or floods.  Some are finding other R.W.’s to vent with, believing that misery loves company.  Some are ignoring all weather forecasts and wearing bright colors and sitting under sun lamps.  Whatever it takes, we’ll get there, together.

We will be setting our clocks ahead in a few days, so we’ll feel like we are getting more daylight in our day.  The other day I heard birds chirping.  The sun, when it does come out, is actually feeling warmer (if you can duck out of the wind and ignore the single digit temperatures). Technically, the first day of spring is in a couple of weeks.  That means actual spring has to follow…. at some point.

Before much longer, we will crawl back out into the world like a mama bear coming out of hibernation.  We will feel warmth once again.  We will begin to feel better about ourselves and get pep back in our steps.

Well, for at least 3 weeks of the month.  Because the PMS thing?   Yeah, that’s not changing any time soon.

 

 

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A Familial Shift

Posted on February 23, 2014 by Real Women

aunt claraFamily faces are magic mirrors. Looking at the people who belong to us we see the past, the present, and the future.      — Gail Lumet Buckley

Aunts and Uncles.  They are like our parents, but not quite. We get to see them interact with each other as brothers and sisters, we see their similarities and differences….and the relationships that build between the generations is something special and unique.  After all, when Aunts and Uncles visit, they don’t have to do the parenting thing — mom and dad are there for that. They can just swoop in for the fun stuff.

I’m lucky enough in my family to have several Aunts and Uncles from both sides, many of whom are thankfully still with us.  At this point in our lives, they are now part of that “older” generation that we look to for their wisdom, their stories of the past, and for whom we hold profound respect. Every one of my Aunts have been strong, smart, and fascinating Real Women.  I have learned something from each of them, and cherish each of their personalities.

I have my California Aunt, who hasn’t lived on the west coast for many years, but I still think of her that way – artistic, a writer, and an avid swimmer.  There’s the Aunt who to me always looked like she walked out of a Talbot’s catalog, with incredible strength and sense of loyalty; after my mom passed away, she became my closest connection to her other than my siblings.  There is the Aunt with virtually unlimited energy and zeal for life, incredibly active and family-centered, who never seems to age.  We’ve got the charming Aunt and Uncle not related by blood but by friendship and history, who are considered family. And of course there’s the Aunt and Uncle who are the youngest of that generation and therefore always seemed the coolest, the easiest to relate to.   All of them are woven into this fabric of extended family, spread out all over the country….and although we certainly don’t see them often enough, they are that mature, wiser, rather fascinating generation with whom we wish we could spend more time.

This weekend during a short family vacation, my husband and I had the opportunity to spend some time with our nephews from his side of the family.  Now grown men, they have families and lives of their own.  They invited us, and our son, to meet them for dinner Saturday night with a few of their friends and family members – it was a group ranging in age from teens to late thirties.  We planned to meet at 8pm, so we went back to the hotel to rest that afternoon before venturing out.  As we were getting ready to meet them, I tried to put together an outfit that would make me feel at least somewhat trendy and not dumpy (did I mention one of the young women in the group also happens to be a model?).  While I was adhering concealer over my wrinkles, I heard by husband ask “these don’t look like old man pants, do they?”  And it dawned on me.  The shift had happened.  We now are that older Aunt and Uncle generation.  Somehow, in a blink of an eye, we were no longer the nieces and nephews, we were on the other side – we have become those mature relatives in town visiting. We are the ones who needed to rest up before a late dinner outing. We were the ones worried about looking “old”.  We were the ones swooping in for the fun.

During dinner, I heard my husband dispensing advice and funny stories from the past.  We listened to their exciting plans for the future – one young lady was venturing into her first career, one was opening her first Salon, one nephew is starting a new business venture.  They all have that youthful vitality, working on that shift into being mature adults. The teenagers looked up from their handheld electronics from time to time to roll their eyes at their parents.

When dinner was over, one nephew left to take his kids home, the other was headed out for drinks and dancing with the young ladies.  We heard a few comments from them encouraging us to move closer, and we all talked about plans for the next time we visit.   It felt like some sort of cosmic shift.  I was seeing the past me, the current me, and the future me all rolled into one experience.

I’m sure I’m not alone, and that most of us Real Women don’t really notice this natural progression of life until it smacks us right between the eyes.  In our minds, we are still the kids, the younger generation – until somehow without us watching, that shifts, and we aren’t anymore.  We’ve moved into the next phase and that generational torch is passed on.

As we drove back to the hotel, I thought about what that generation has before them, and of how we’ll get to watch them experience it.  Sure, I’ll admit that I felt that small yet familiar pang of bittersweet amazement over how fast time flies, but for the most part I felt content.  Then I decided to do all I can to make sure I go down in the books as one of the cool Aunties.

 

 

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The Power of the Ball

Posted on February 17, 2014 by Real Women

lottery balls$400 million dollars.  That is the estimated pay out for PowerBall this week. Or $227 million cash value… which I think means that is how much the winner could get if taking it all at once in cash… but I could be wrong.  I’m not much of a lottery player.  I tend to leave lottery ticket purchases to my husband, hoping and assuming that he’ll include me if he wins.  However, when the jackpot gets gigantic like it is this week, I hop into the company pool.  After all, I don’t want to be the one left behind if they all win big and leave.

We have all heard that it is more likely that we would be struck by lightening than win the lottery.  Some sources, like NBC News, have shared other things that are more likely to happen than win the lottery; like we are far more likely to be born with extra fingers or toes, become U.S. President, be drafted by the NBA, be attacked by a shark, or become a movie star.  And yet we still play.  And we still dream.

It is natural to play that fun game in our heads of “what if.”  What if we won big?  I don’t necessarily mean winning the whole enchilada.  Heck, I’m not greedy, I don’t need to win the whole pot.  Just a small fraction of it would be pretty nifty. I could be quite happy with just a couple million.  So then, what if?  What if you won a few million dollars?

As truly Real Women, how drastically would we change?  How would our lives alter if we had virtually unlimited funds?  I’m going to presume here that we all would be smart enough to instantly hire a reputable money manager/investor, and we wouldn’t become one of those other shocking statistics, and be the person who’s life is ruined by winning it big.   Let’s say we are smart about it.

My guess is we would all take the first step and become completely debt free. That seems to be a no-brainer.  But then what?  Do you keep it all to yourself?  Or do you help others?  Family, friends, charities, strangers?   Or do you invest it all and hide it, sitting on it like a big egg, waiting to splurge on a rainy day?  Or leave it all to your children?

And what of the “stuff”… the material things.  A new home?  Fancy car?  Designer clothes?  Travel?   Call me crazy, but I believe (or maybe it is more like hope) that I wouldn’t change that much.  I’d still be me.  Family and friends would still come first.   I believe that those of us who are true to ourselves, our Real Women selves, wouldn’t change that drastically either….we’d hold onto our same beliefs and values. We’d just become Real Women: Turbo Style.  For example, I don’t think I’d cast away my home, I happen to love it… but perhaps I’d buy a couple vacation homes in other areas — that would be lovely.  And I’d add an addition to our home because I’ve always wanted a giant walk-in closet and whirlpool tub.  I’m happy with my car, I would just pay it off.  I’d travel.  Lots.  But I think I’d still buy the same kind of clothes as I do now, and I’d probably still be a bargain hunter because it is in my blood.  I have no interest in furs or high-end designers.   I’d hire a personal trainer.   I wouldn’t hire a full-time chef, because I like to cook – but I could use some nights off, so a part-time chef would be ok.  Ooooh, I’d hire someone to do my meal planning and grocery shopping, that would be awesome. Well, ok, and maybe someone to clean my bathrooms and do the ironing.

My hunch is that for most of us Real Women, we wouldn’t want to completely change our lives, we would just change the balance of it.  For us it is less about the stuff and more about the what. We’d find a way to “buy” the leisure time we all crave.  We’d “spend” more time enjoying our hobbies, families, and the world itself.   We’d be able to stop and finally ask ourselves truthfully, what do WE want to DO?

In all of this dreaming, that may be the hardest question to ask, simply because we so rarely take the time to consider the answer.  If money were truly no object, what would you spend your days doing?   In between the trips to exotic locations, the shopping sprees, and the ladies luncheons, what then?  Is there some form of “work” you would still want to do to stay productive and use your brain?  Would you volunteer?  Would you spend your time channeling your creative side?  Would you take the time to hone a skill or talent?

Close your eyes and imagine it for a moment. You have the time, the health, and the funds.  What are you doing?   It is a pretty delicious way to indulge in the “what if.”  And I’m guessing it gives us a pretty honest look at who we are or who we want to be.

For me, that dream question doesn’t always come up with the same answer.  Some days I’m volunteering at an animal shelter.  Some days I’m exploring the world, much of it via bicycle.  Some days I’m a movie location scout.  Some days I’m leading fitness classes for children. Some days I’m a beach bum.  Today, if I ask myself the “what if” question, I’m sitting in a bright airy room, a warm breeze coming through an open window with a beautiful view, and I’m writing the next best-seller.

I don’t put a whole lot of stock in those bouncing lottery balls, and I don’t have many grand illusions that any of us hold the winning numbers in our hands.  But the dreaming part?  Now THAT is powerful.  And free.

What is your “what if” dream?  Please feel free to share. 

 

 

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Just One of Those Days

Posted on February 12, 2014 by Real Women

dailyI’m a lucky Real Woman. I know this because I have a loving family, amazing friends, a good job, a nice home, and good health.  (Cue Cinderella’s blue birds). Not everyone can boast all of that.   Yet even the luckiest of us can have…well, less than perfect days.  Days when we are tempted to crawl back into bed and pull the covers over our heads and hibernate.

Granted, these days frequently coincide with that week in the month when we are already feeling like we are at the bottom of the heap.  When our emotions and tempers are roller-coasters and our self-image is appallingly low.  None of that helps. From there, all it takes is one challenging moment to kick off a domino affect.

Here’s a recent example….I’d had a frustrating night of trying to locate lost reservations for an upcoming family vacation and stayed up far too late.  Domino #1.  Never skimp on sleep when crankiness sets in.

My son lost his glasses a few weeks ago. Earlier in the evening we had finally gotten him to the eye doctor who was appalled that our son had gone at least a month without his eye-wear.  His one eye that requires correction had gotten worse since the last appointment.  Domino #2.  Mom Guilt.  There goes my bid for Mother of the Year again.

After an all-too-short night of sleep, I awoke feeling overwhelmed by the amount of “things” I need to get done, both at home and at work. I had already convinced myself I could not possibly get everything done that I needed to get done.  While stressing about work, I had a bizarre collection of other thoughts swirling in my head, as we Real Women always do.  They went something like this:  When can I fit in a haircut before we go out of town- I need to call that family member to try to help him with his computer issues-how soon can I get my son’s new glasses before he goes blind-what am I making for dinner tonight-do we need to take the dog to the vet?   Domino #3.  Self-induced stress.

As I backed out of the driveway to head to work, I didn’t see the can of recyclables my husband had put out, knocked it over, and bottles, cans and glassware spilled out all over the road.  There I was, in heels, scurrying around picking up the spilled contents, as other commuters had to brake or swerve around me, no doubt annoyed to be slowed down by this silly woman who made a mess.  At one point I felt like standing in the middle of the road and yelling “yes!  That is an empty Baileys AND an empty wine bottle you see!”   Did I mention it was 2 degrees out?   Domino #4.   Not giving in to the humor of a situation.  (by now the blue birds were long gone, and the ravens were circling.)

True to form to make myself feel better I stopped at Dunkin Donuts for a fattening chai and muffin.  After all, most of us R.W.’s in New England cope with winter by consuming far too much comfort food.  By February we’ve given in and decided the extra pounds are a good match with our pale skin tone.  Some of us supplement this coping mechanism by taking part in Retail Therapy as well. Which kind of makes sense, since nothing in our closets fits anymore…. But I digress.  In the distance between the cash register and the pick-up counter, the servers forgot about me and had to be reminded what I ordered.  Ok, I get it, I wasn’t on top of my game either.  Domino #5:  Mood Eating.

Upon arriving at work, I soon realized I had never put on earrings.  Glad I at least remembered underwear.  I then heard the weather report that another doozy of a winter storm is due this week — naturally when my husband will be out of town for a conference so I’ll need a crash course in using the snow blower and will worry about him traveling.  Lovely.   Domino #5:  Worrying about that which is out of our control.

It had officially become “one of those days.”

The good news is as the day progressed, there were a few high points, namely in the form of other people who made me smile and laugh.  Eventually I made it through to the end of the day and ended up where I wanted to be in the first place: snuggled into bed.

I know you are waiting for me to share that the lesson learned when we each have “one of those days” is that it could be worse. None of these were real challenges, all First World Problems, suck it up and be thankful.  Yeah, yeah, sure, sure……

That’s not really the lesson in my mind.  To me, the lesson is that at any given moment, we have no idea what any one else we encounter throughout our days may be carrying with them.   Maybe their baby puked on their new skirt on the way out the door.  Maybe they burned their toast or broke a heel on a shoe. Maybe they knocked over all of their container recyclables into the road.  You just never know. We are all real. And when these events happen, at that moment, they feel like very real issues and challenges.

So let’s cut each other a little slack.  Share a smile or a laugh.  You never know how much another R.W. could use it.

fine really fine

 

With thanks to Mary Englebrett, a talented artist who routinely captures the essence of being Real Women.

Posted in moods, real women | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

The Opportunity to be Schlubby

Posted on February 5, 2014 by Real Women

slippersThanks to a doozy of a winter storm, I had the opportunity to work from home today.  I also had the “opportunity” to spend quite a bit of time helping my husband shovel snow.

Since I knew I’d be home all day, and not venturing out into public, I stayed in my comfy clothes…. Basically sweats or yoga pants and soft fleece oversized shirts. When one of these fashionable sets got soaking wet from battling the white stuff, I simply changed into another similar outfit.  When my feet weren’t in boots, they were in fuzzy socks or slippers.  I put on no makeup at all.  As a matter of fact, I didn’t even shower until late afternoon.

In essence, I was what I call schlubby — all day.  And I was ridiculously comfortable and relaxed. I’d be concerned that my husband would be horrified or turned off by the sight of me, but he was in his Schlub Best throughout the day as well.

I began to wonder… if I had an at-home job, would I spend most of my days like this?  If I knew that no one other than immediate family would see me, would I still take the time to look better than this?  Is this a momentary opportunity to take my appearance down a notch, or do I have a secret desire to be a schlub?  Clearly it is easier to crave comfort in the winter when we want to hibernate under a blanket most days anyway… but I could certainly envision myself in a similar look in the summer… something like a ponytail, ratty shorts and tshirt and barefeet.  Ahhhhh…

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy style, and I have a bit of a love affair in particular with shoes and jewelry.  Dressing up can be fun, and we R.W.’s all like to look our best — and if we can turn a head or two in the process, that does wonders for our ego.  But what of the R.W. in her natural habitat?  Away from public eye?  Are we our true selves when we allow ourselves some schlub time?

I used to think that I wouldn’t be productive or focused if I didn’t get “dressed for work.”  However, I’ve gotta say I’ve been pretty darn productive today.  Got job-work done, got two loads of wash completed, shoveled the patio and walkway twice, got in a short basement workout, and made fresh rolls to go with dinner.  Perhaps removing all that pesky time I would usually spend primping and color matching allowed me to concentrate on other activities.

I do know some R.W.’s who always, without fail, look their best.  Never ever seen without a coordinated outfit, makeup and good hair.  I’m impressed by them.  And I’m sure if any of them could see me now, they’d smile politely and say something like “you look comfortable.”   Yup. I sure am.

Tomorrow I’ll be back to the office, and I’ll get back into my public personae.  For as much as I’ve enjoyed my schlub time today, I by no means want to share this side of my identity with co-workers or strangers.   I guess therein lies my answer…. I could never be a full-time schlubber.  Call it ego, call it vanity, call it pride, or just plain call it respect for myself and others – but there is a time and a place for the natural, comfy me.  And I wouldn’t enjoy a rare day of being schlubby quite so much if it was my every day role.  At least I’ll try to tell myself that tomorrow as I gaze longingly at my fuzzy slippers when I head out the door.

 

 

 

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Points for Good Behavior

Posted on January 30, 2014 by Real Women

feet upI am currently participating in a “winter wellness challenge” at my place of employment.  Like many savvy employers know, encouraging workers to make healthy choices and get off our duffs and be active improves not only morale and personal health and welfare, but in the long run improves the company’s bottom line and productivity.

Besides, during the winter months in New England, the lure of hibernation is very strong — so any encouragement we can all have to venture forth and be energetic is a noble effort.

In this particular program, we rack up points based on both physical activity, and various “daily healthy behaviors.”  The duration and level of physical activity determines how many points can be earned each day.  For example, we can get more points for biking than playing croquette.  I did notice that wind surfing will be awarded 3 points, however not a whole heck of a lot of that happens around here this time of year.

I tend to be a fairly active person, so this program does not really change my lifestyle. However, it does push me kick it up a notch to make sure I’m doing something point-worthy each day. Typical R.W., I don’t want to drag my team down and be the schlub with no points. And, yes, ok, that competitive thing does kick in a bit, especially against some of the men in the challenge.

What I do find a bit more fascinating are the Healthy Behavior points.  To be expected, we get points for eating fruits and veggies and drinking plenty of water.  However, we can also get a point each day for sleeping at least 7 hours at night, and for taking a minimum of 20 minutes of “just for me” time.

For any R.W.’s, especially those of us over the age of 40, getting at least 7 hours of sleep per night is a rarity.  At first I thought it would be do-able until I read the fine print:  must be consecutive hours.  Really?   Like go to sleep and not wake up at all, not even to get up to pee, until over 7 hours later?  Are they kidding?  I understand that getting enough sleep is something most of us don’t do, even though it is vital to being able to function at full capacity, plus wards off illness and prevents us from getting run down.  Really, I do understand how important that is.  But sleep all the way through the night?   This particular point reward plan must have been developed by a man, or at least someone under the age of 30.

That brings me to the “Just for Me” time.  Only 20 minutes. Sounds simple enough.  Until we put it into practice and look at our average day.  This is meant to be literally fun or relax time, just for ourselves, not doing anything for anyone else, no “must do” chores, etc.   For those of us who actually enjoy exercising, it is tempting to use that time for the Just for Me category, but since we already get points for that, we would be double-dipping and I’m sure that is frowned upon.

One of my co-workers told me the other day that she went to a doctor’s appointment and had to wait a full hour to be seen.  I groaned and started to offer my sympathies, until she stopped me and admitted that it wasn’t that bad.  They had very good magazines in the waiting room, so she actually took the time to slow down, relax a bit, and read some magazines.   I chuckled and let her know that perhaps she could use that as her Just for Me time.

Then it dawned on me. Is that what we’ve come to?  Are we Real Women not getting our own down time until we are forced into it?  Has it reached the point where having to wait to be seen at the doctor’s office is our version of quiet time?  Do we really spend so much time running and doing that we forget the power of stopping?

There are times when I will carve out a few minutes before bedtime to get out a “just for me” fun fluff novel to read.  Just the act of snuggling under the covers, a comfy pillow behind me, and a book in my hand, feels like heaven.  Having my one evening a week to do scrapbooking with my girlfriend is a great escape. Grabbing a blanket, putting up my feet on the couch and being absorbed into the world of Downton Abbey on TV feels decadent.  And, certainly for me, sitting down to my keyboard and letting words flow is therapeutic.

But I know I’m not alone when I say that these times we take for ourselves are by far not frequent enough.  It shouldn’t take a formal program, offering us bonus points, to push us to take more time for ourselves.  There is a popular claim that you must do something for at least 3 weeks in order for it to become a habit – and that is part of the theory behind our wellness challenge at work… to get us headed in the right direction to make these healthier habits part of our daily lives.  I think many of us have the drinking water and being active thing down.  But the “just for me” part?  Yeah, we’ve got some progress to make there.

 

 

 

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Safe to Help?

Posted on January 26, 2014 by Real Women

Open HandsThe difference between a helping hand and an outstretched palm is a twist of the wrist.  ~Laurence Leamer, King of the Night

We Real Women were raised to believe in the importance in helping those who are less fortunate than ourselves.  We are to help those in need, however we can, and we strive to instill this same belief in our children.

The paradox that is created, however, is that we also strive to teach our children to not talk to strangers.  As we grow up from being little girls to young ladies to grown women, we know that we should never put ourselves in dangerous situations, to be leary of strangers who approach us.

So what are we to do if a person who is clearly in need approaches us?  Do we hurry away to safety, or do we offer our assistance?

One of my R.W. friends shared a story of a recent encounter her mother-in-law had with someone asking for assistance.  A fairly elderly woman, her mom-in-law was leaving a grocery store when a man approached her, asking for some change.  She obliged, and in return the man offered to carry her groceries to her car.  On the way to the car, he then asked her for a ride to the next town.  This woman is a kind soul and believes in the good in people, and although most of us would never have agreed, she unfortunately did agree to give him a lift.

Upon reaching the destination, my friend’s mom-in-law was attacked and robbed. Thankfully, she put up enough of a fuss that the man ran away before causing her major injuries and “only” stealing her cash. But she is traumatized by the event, naturally.  And scariest of all, it could have ended much differently.

Certainly, any of us hearing this story were likely feeling the “oh no” ick-factor as early as the man offering to carry the grocery bags to the car.  Red flags were waving in our minds immediately, and for good reason.  However, in this woman’s eyes, she thought she was doing a good thing. She was helping someone in need, someone less fortunate.

Ever since my friend shared this experience with me, I’ve been thinking about all of the times I’ve been approached, or have passed by, someone looking for a donation or a helping hand.  Each time, I’ve relied on some sort of R.W. “Spidey Sense” to guide me as to whether or not to interact with the individual.  I’ve often given what I could at the time… however, I will admit that there have been plenty of times that I’ve moved quickly away rather than make any sort of contact.  And every time I’ve done that, I’ve felt a pang of guilt.  Should I have helped?  Was I a bad person for avoiding someone in need?   Invariably I think about how easily I, or any of us, could be in the same position.  How quickly any of us could become unemployed, or experience a devastating set back, and lose everything.  What if that was me, stretching out a hand for help, and being ignored?

But….maybe I made the right choice… what if that person who tried to reach out to me was dangerous, unstable, and posed a real threat?  What if, like the man my friend’s mom-in-law tried to help, was a desperate criminal, likely a drug addict, who was willing to hurt someone just to run off with $60?

The skeptical among us say “that person is only going to use that money to buy drugs or alcohol.”  Sure, plenty of those in need are trying to support a drug habit…but what about those who are just looking for a warm meal for themselves or their children?

In the end, all we can really do is find ways to help in safe ways.  We can volunteer at food pantries and soup kitchens. We can donate to church organizations, rescue missions and the Salvation Army.  We can spare some change when in a safe environment.   There is a man, clearly in need, who sits in his wheel chair at the entrance to my local grocery store, and seems to survive simply due to the kindness of strangers.  From time to time I’ve given him a few dollars or a cold bottle of water on a hot day. He is non-threatening and appreciative.   Although I will admit that if he was more able-bodied and approached me in a different environment, say an empty parking lot, I wouldn’t hesitate to get away from him as quickly as possible.

Sadly, there are so many out there who are far less fortunate than I.  I’m lucky to have my health, a job, a loving family and a warm home – and I hope that I’m teaching my son to appreciate all that we have and to find appropriate ways to help others.  But the bottom line is that we can’t help anyone if we don’t stay healthy and safe ourselves.  We have to be careful first.  Then give.

 

 

 

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Different Flowers From the Same Garden

Posted on January 20, 2014 by Real Women

sisters“She is your mirror, shining back at you with a world of possibilities. She is your witness, who sees you at your worst and best, and loves you anyway. She is your partner in crime, your midnight companion, someone who knows when you are smiling, even in the dark. She is your teacher, your defense attorney, your personal press agent, even your shrink.”  —  Barbara Alpert

Real Women are all about relationships.  Sure, men have relationships with other people, but they are more a convenient happenstance for them, not a vital requirement to their existence. For women, having relationships with the people in our lives is like needing air to breathe.

Some of us are lucky enough to have a long-lasting, loving relationship with a man and decide to spend the majority of our life with him.  Some of us have to kiss a few frogs to find a prince.  Certainly those relationships can be amazing, horrifying or just down right educational.  But we’ll save that discussion for future posts.

On the other hand, the relationships we women have with other women are our lifeblood.  At the very core of our connections lays some sort of common bond, a similarity, and a history.  Quite possibly the strongest of all of these connections is with sisters.

Sure, like any sibling combination, sisters can appear to be so very different from each other that others would never believe them to be related, or they can be shockingly similar.  There can be disagreements, fights, and frustrations.  Yet there is no denying the strength of that “sister thing” that ties us together.

My sister and I were not especially close growing up. It wasn’t because we didn’t get along… it was more because of our age difference.   She was my big sister by 7 years, so as I was in grade school, she was testing the waters of a teenage world.  When I was in college, she was a fast-paced married career woman.  I think we kind of fascinated each other.  To me, she was always the strong beautiful fashion plate, the older and more experienced one.  To her, I was the baby of the family, goofy and happy to follow my siblings around.  We never argued, we got along well, and we have some great memories from our youth – we just didn’t spend a whole lot of time together.

Funny thing though….in our adult lives, things started to change. That age difference started to fade and it became not really much of a difference at all.  Our similarities became more and more pronounced.  We started to cling more to the value of having each other. And now even though we live 1,600 miles from each other, we are closer than ever.

What I’ve experienced between us is what I’ve observed in others…Sisters are funny creatures. Even if we can’t be together often, we sound alike. We act alike. We often think alike.  Sisters can poke fun at each other without offense.  At times of crisis, sisters are there for each other.  Sisters are sounding boards, allies and confidantes.  No ideas are too crazy to share with a sister.  The history between sisters is the unspoken bond, the understanding of where we come from and why we are who we are.  Sisters just plain get it.

Sisters will also do things for each other that no one else will, no matter how silly.  Great example… this past weekend my sister and I took a road trip together.  After getting a couple of breakfast sandwiches to go, I was piloting us down the road and she was divvying up our cuisine.  Short side note here: I have a thing about cheese. Primarily, I can’t stand gooey orange cheese. And as I unwrapped my selection, I was horrified to find that the server clearly had not heard my plea for “no cheese please”, and there it was, in its mushy golden globbiness.  My sister simply plucked the item from my grasp and proceeded to perform a precision mobile cheese extraction.  Matter of factly, she let me know that the egg portion was a total loss, but was able to save the remainder of the sandwich and handed it back to me.  If that’s not sisterly love, I don’t know what is.

In the hours we spent together over the weekend, we touched on topics as deep as family issues and as light as celebrity fashion.  We jumped topics like two distracted puppies, but had no problem keeping up with each other.  We laughed, we got misty, we solved world problems.

Most importantly, we put in place our plans to see each other again in two months.

And so it goes with sisters.  The most amazing part of this vital relationship in women’s lives is that if an R.W. doesn’t have a biological sister, she likely develops that sisterly relationship elsewhere.  Sisters don’t have to be connected via DNA.   They just need to have that bond built by loyalty, love, humor, history, security… and a good dose of admiration.

And it really helps if your strengths compliment each other – so one of you can kill spiders while the other can protect against orange cheese.

 

 

Posted in family, Relationships | Tagged , , , , , , | 2 Comments