Vanity creeps into our lives so subtlety.  Or not.  Leaving Chicago, I was distracted the entire ride on the Metra Train heading to my sweet sunny home in the suburbs.  In front of me sat two chatty 20-somethings. They wove in conversation about guys, about how they looked, about how their friends looked, about how their friend’s Facebook profiles looked.  And then they began miming exaggerated facial expressions as if to replicate the photos they were critiquing.  As I listened, I remembered my shaggy eye brows needed waxed, my makeup from the morning had faded into a smudgy oily blur, and my lips were chapped. I prayed to my sparkly lip gloss to give me magic unattainable beauty. Nothing happened.  I’m still me. Thankfully.

An instant later I remembered something that no woman over 30 should ever forget: I’m a grown ass woman.  Confidence can do more for smudgy makeup, or no make up, or oily skin or imperfections than any amount of CC cream- tinted or not.

Brandon and I just returned from a place in this world that God must have created when he was really feeling good–before the whole humanity + sin fiasco.  Cozumel, Mexico contains the kind of views that calms even the most restless person.  The shades of blue in the sea have so much brilliance your eyes begin to fill with tears as deep emotions stream out of the corners of your eyes.  The sparkle of the water reflects your happy tears back and dolphins jump in the distance (no joke) as the giant sun begins its daily incline to warm the earth and all of it’s inhabitants.  I never once thought, if only God would make the blue less bluey.  I just absorbed it- no critique- no judgement- no fix this or add that- or if only there were less dimples on this part…

I think that’s the great trick of our culture.  Stay focused on yourself and your screaming imperfections and you won’t (a) value yourself enough to do work you’re passionate about or (b) even have time to think about what your passion actually is.  I’ve seen it again and again.  I’ve seen it in myself.  A little less over here, a little more over there… then you’ll be good.  What the hell man.  I can be so self obsessed that I sell myself short (when i’m _______, then i’ll get started) or I don’t even give myself time to think about real issues because I’m too busy wondering if my jeans are actually getting tighter or the dryer is starting to shrink my clothes.  I get it.  I’m smart and know this kind of thinking is stupid.  We have to stop this kind of stupid thinking against ourselves.

Each day at the pool in Cozumel a large group of Israeli 20-somethings would parade in.  It was like watching a real life version of an H&M catalog.  These girls were all different shapes and sizes.  And their bathing suits were itty bitty tiny. I became aware that my 2 piece swim suit had approximately 39 times more fabric–next to them I felt like I was wearing a parka swimsuit.  I watched as each girl displayed the confidence of woman comfortable in her own skin.  It was like these girls had never been told that their value is based on their weight or their looks.

When we tell our little girls in subtle and overt ways that their value is in their looks, we’re hurting them.  We’re hurting their little souls.  The souls that believe that they can take on the world.  The souls that believe that they can be whatever they want.  Fast Company just published an article about Princess Reema Bint Bandar Al-Saud, a woman in Saudi Arabia who took over some key decisions at the luxury retail store her family owns.  Decisions like hiring women.  Decisions like not requiring women to wear a veil.   Sales at the store dropped 43%.  Much due to her radical change in empowering women.  I know it’s not the whole story and I know there are cultural and religious differences at play. But for God’s sake or Allah’s sake, or the sake of this beautiful broken world- women are more than a sum of their lumpy thighs and chapped lips and bushy eye brows.

We’re a beautiful mess.  We can do anything.  Change starts with yourself- and your damaging thoughts. You’re hurting all of us when you beat yourself up.  But most importantly, you’re hurting you every time you bash your skin, your arms, your legs, your belly, your whatever is yours.  You have beautiful curves and eyes like the sea.  Your legs are strong- even when you’re tired of trying to stand on your own.  Your arms are womanly and wonderful.  You have a perfect shape.  And you are destined for whatever great things you decide you want to do.

For a little more reading-
I love the sentiment in this blog post by Man Repeller.

Love to my sisters out there.

It’s hard for me to respect the guy in a the rickety car who was next to me at the stop light.  I watched him (twice) throw something out of his window towards my car that I can only assume were boogers. 

Being raised by a family that went out of its way to be inclusive and respectful of all people, I could see how my booger judgement might put me in a position of hypocrisy.  Although we were a family who complained about each other, we were never allowed to say mean things about the neighbors. We were encouraged to think creatively about the situations that life brings and not assume the worst about someone. 

Growing up I remember feeling ashamed of myself when I judged someone.  So why as an adult do I enter into it so freely.  So carelessly. 

Did you know that female elephants live in groups of about 30 and take care of each other (bathe, share food, socialize, and help with each others calves)? I read the article, The Meanest Girls at the Watering Hole, written by Caitlin O’Connell-Rodwell, an expert on elephants and faculty member at Standford University School of Medicine. 

She’s been studying elephants and wrote about one of her observations of a pack of elephants in Africa.  One of the elephants (named Wynona), along with the Wynona’s son, daughter, and granddaughter were being cut off from the spring where they access fresh water by another elephant in the pack. The rest of the pack was able to drink except for Wynona and her family, who were forced to the muddy part of the water source. 

While the article goes into detail about how the pack began excluding Wynona and her family, this separation is what researches call fission.  Elephant packs experience both fusion and fission.  For example in places where poaching is prevalent, lone elephants have come together and created new packs for protection and socialization (fusion).  While other packs push out the elephants they view as less than, forcing them out of the pack (fission). 

This article makes me think we might be a society of elephant tendencies.  We’ve all had a time when our ugly side was reared.  We’ve judged, we’ve pushed out, and we’ve been mean.  But it doesn’t mean that we have to keep being that way.  I don’t want to be the mean girl at the watering hole. I want my life to be marked by love and encouragement.

It’s hard for me to respect the guy in a the rickety car who was next to me at the stop light.  I watched him (twice) throw something out of his window towards my car that I can only assume were boogers. 

Being raised by a family that went out of its way to be inclusive and respectful of all people, I could see how my booger judgement might put me in a position of hypocrisy.  Although we were a family who complained about each other, we were never allowed to say mean things about the neighbors. We were encouraged to think creatively about the situations that life brings and not assume the worst about someone. 

Growing up I remember feeling ashamed of myself when I judged someone.  So why as an adult do I enter into it so freely.  So carelessly. 

Did you know that female elephants live in groups of about 30 and take care of each other (bathe, share food, socialize, and help with each others calves)? I read the article, The Meanest Girls at the Watering Hole, written by Caitlin O’Connell-Rodwell, an expert on elephants and faculty member at Standford University School of Medicine. 

She’s been studying elephants and wrote about one of her observations of a pack of elephants in Africa.  One of the elephants (named Wynona), along with the Wynona’s son, daughter, and granddaughter were being cut off from the spring where they access fresh water by another elephant in the pack. The rest of the pack was able to drink except for Wynona and her family, who were forced to the muddy part of the water source. 

While the article goes into detail about how the pack began excluding Wynona and her family, this separation is what researches call fission.  Elephant packs experience both fusion and fission.  For example in places where poaching is prevalent, lone elephants have come together and created new packs for protection and socialization (fusion).  While other packs push out the elephants they view as less than, forcing them out of the pack (fission). 

This article makes me think we might be a society of elephant tendencies.  We’ve all had a time when our ugly side was reared.  We’ve judged, we’ve pushed out, and we’ve been mean.  But it doesn’t mean that we have to keep being that way.  I don’t want to be the mean girl at the watering hole. I want my life to be marked by love and encouragement.

I learned two things from the career class I took in school.  The first, always wear neutral nail polish for your interview.  The second, I’m destined to be a teacher someday. 

Even though I had an interview today, I chose sparkly sea foam green nail polish because it reminded me of my 31st birthday, which was the only time (before today) I wore the hue proudly.  I have decided my 30s will be marked by wearing age-inappropriate nail polish colors.

God bless you if you’re in your 30s because, if you’re like me, you’re probably just figuring out that you’re a terrible person and yet you still have something to offer the world.  It’s a horrific and wonderful realization all at the same time.

Thinking about how broken I am doesn’t get me very far.
But neither does thinking about how great I am.

Somewhere in the middle our soul pendulum steadies and we discover who we are.

The more that we’re comfortable with our true self, the more we’ll let our self show.  And that’s the wonderful part.  The part where you’re able to be you and stick to the values and the aspirations inside of your flowering soul.  You are uniquely you.  Bring the bad parts, the ugly parts, and the sea foam green parts. Each of those parts makes up the soil in which you grow.

Are there parts of you that you’ve been hiding? That feel underdeveloped or under-loved?  Are there parts of you that need some light to grow?  

My younger self was convinced that basement monsters had a secret passage into our laundry room and the code to unlock their secret tunnels was in the rhythm of your feet walking down the stairs or in the smell of food.  As a result I would travel to the basement with rhythmically challenged footsteps and keep my mouth sealed shut. (Note to parents: Weird kids make weird adults.)

Now as an adult, I had hoped that my magical heavy-footed stomp down the stairs would unlock my under-developed self and help her find health. Pronto!  But sadly, like most things in my life, change doesn’t happen in an instant.  It’s a slow steady process in the right direction.  It’s choosing to write this blog post, it’s choosing to acknowledge when someone hurts me, it’s choosing to say my goofy thoughts and not say sorry afterwards, it’s choosing to admit when I haven’t prepared well or when I messed up.

If you have basement monsters, you don’t have to unlock their tunnels. But please do things to bring all of you out into the light.  You are beautifully and wonderfully made.

I learned two things from the career class I took in school.  The first, always wear neutral nail polish for your interview.  The second, I’m destined to be a teacher someday. 

Even though I had an interview today, I chose sparkly sea foam green nail polish because it reminded me of my 31st birthday, which was the only time (before today) I wore the hue proudly.  I have decided my 30s will be marked by wearing age-inappropriate nail polish colors.

God bless you if you’re in your 30s because, if you’re like me, you’re probably just figuring out that you’re a terrible person and yet you still have something to offer the world.  It’s a horrific and wonderful realization all at the same time.

Thinking about how broken I am doesn’t get me very far.
But neither does thinking about how great I am.

Somewhere in the middle our soul pendulum steadies and we discover who we are.

The more that we’re comfortable with our true self, the more we’ll let our self show.  And that’s the wonderful part.  The part where you’re able to be you and stick to the values and the aspirations inside of your flowering soul.  You are uniquely you.  Bring the bad parts, the ugly parts, and the sea foam green parts. Each of those parts makes up the soil in which you grow.

Are there parts of you that you’ve been hiding? That feel underdeveloped or under-loved?  Are there parts of you that need some light to grow?  

My younger self was convinced that basement monsters had a secret passage into our laundry room and the code to unlock their secret tunnels was in the rhythm of your feet walking down the stairs or in the smell of food.  As a result I would travel to the basement with rhythmically challenged footsteps and keep my mouth sealed shut. (Note to parents: Weird kids make weird adults.)

Now as an adult, I had hoped that my magical heavy-footed stomp down the stairs would unlock my under-developed self and help her find health. Pronto!  But sadly, like most things in my life, change doesn’t happen in an instant.  It’s a slow steady process in the right direction.  It’s choosing to write this blog post, it’s choosing to acknowledge when someone hurts me, it’s choosing to say my goofy thoughts and not say sorry afterwards, it’s choosing to admit when I haven’t prepared well or when I messed up.

If you have basement monsters, you don’t have to unlock their tunnels. But please do things to bring all of you out into the light.  You are beautifully and wonderfully made.

“If you give yourself some space, I promise God will whisper”, my mentor and friend stated just two minutes before dropping me off the airport.  She gave me no time for rebuttal. 

The words she spoke felt as confusing as my 101-level astronomy class when we were measuring the distance to stars with color.  I looked around at other classmates giving them the, He’s making this up, right?! look. They did not reciprocate my eye roll. I was perched on my front row island in the lecture hall all alone.  Despite meeting with the professor during his office hours to prove my ambition to learn about space, I’m sure the tube-socks wearing, cargo-shorts sporting, 30-years of tenure teacher thought I was the dork.  And I was (am).

My retention in the class was so low that all I walked away with was an aspiration to do life over again as a fuzzy-haired-Bette-Midler-in-Hocus–Poscus-looking scientist. Even so, the solar system, worm holes, and supernovas are intriguing in ways that make me want to keep learning about science, even if the ideas are larger than my almost almond-sized brain can handle.

On most days God and the concepts around God seem so far that even color can’t measure it.  In those moments when I feel overwhelmed by not being smart enough or having things figured out enough, I just try to give myself some space.  I don’t think God is asking to be ‘figured out’ or measured.  I think God is just asking for a little (maybe a lot of) space in your life and my life.