When did Barbie become a hooker?
So yesterday I sauntered on into Target on my lunch break and moseyed my way down aisle 6, the infamous Barbie “Porn” aisle. I was a woman on a mission to pick up Barbie’s and warm clothes for the 5 year old lil’ Latina I was assigned from the “Giving Tree Family” my lifegroup adopted from church. We adopt a family and then each person in the group finds stuff to contribute to the whole Santa Bag of gifts. Like a Good Christian Girl I got the 5 year old Chiquita, undoubtedly named, “Maria” with braids and one missing front tooth (FYI: I just made all that up for your visual delight. You’re welcome) so the first Barbie I see featured on display as the bookend aisle product, is “Santa’s Helper Barbie.” Let me give you the low down of what Barbie was NOT wearing. Home girl looked like she was wearing one of them hoochie Halloween, “Santa’s Naughty Helper” get-ups. She’s in a strapless, red dress; sexy white boa fur lines the rim of her breasts and the hem of her skirt. She is also wearing 3-inch stilettos (well if she was a real life doll the stilettos would be 3 inches) Now, when Barbie was switching over from a Princess to a Hooker did I also miss the fact that the North Poll warmed over? Cause by the amount of skin the sexy little “Santa’s Helper” was showing I can only conclude that she was either a.) Ready to go get a tan or b.) Ready to jump in the sac with Saint Nick. And trust me, if you saw this doll you would agree. She is the epitome of the “other woman” and if Santa is goin’ for the “hoe, hoe, hoe type” He definitely got it.
Ok, so it can’t be worse, right? Oh no, it’s worse, much worse. I found myself standing in the middle of aisle 6 staring at the menagerie of Lolita, Barbie Porn stars. These girls were dressed in A-symmetrical cocktail dresses, not pink, not purple…we’re talking red and black cocktail dresses! And the one or two dresses that did have a hint of girlyness to them (meaning a hue of a pastel color) were skin tight and covered in sequins! Barbie did not look ready for tea, no. She looked like she was getting sponsored by Fredericks of Hollywood and on her way to sip cocktails at an event at the Playboy mansion!
Ya know it’s not so much the clothes that the doll is wearing that bothers me its who the doll is for that bothers me. This girl is 5 and she’s not only 5, but she’s an underprivileged child. She is getting Christmas gift aide because her family struggles financially. She’s already got the odds against her, financially burdened, probably both parents working, stressed and struggling and she is most likely left alone or without them for long periods of time. She is expected to play games and entertain herself in their absence. What will she entertain herself with? Porno Barbie! She will roll play herself as this doll. She will pretend that she is going on hot dates, with hot boys, going to hot clubs and drinking hot drinks! How on earth is that child going to learn to get out of the position her family is in if her role model is a hooker?
My pickins’ were slim when it came finding something for little, “Maria” considering my prerequisite for a purchase were clothes not formerly seen on a commercial for 1-900-BOOTY-CALL. I opted to go with a “Nature Bike Barbie” who came complete with a bike, helmet and get this, Pants! And “Fairy Barbie” caught my eye. She did have a strapless, “breastalicious” top on with a negligee of a skirt, but (yawn) She’s a fairy. Their known to be scandalous. I hope that when “Maria” plays with these Barbie’s she will see herself riding a bike on the beach with her friends. She will look at the fairy and be intrigued on where they come from and learn to draw them. I pray that these dolls will encourage her imagination and deepen the dreams she has for herself and her family.
Merry Early Christmas!
Xoxo
So I almost died today…
To the old man with balding white hair, glasses, wearing the black windbreaker and drinking his coffee while he was barreling down Cliff Drive in Newport Beach this morning while you drove an oversized, raised Ford F150 that screeched before it almost hit me in the crosswalk I would like to say a few words to you… I REALLY DON’T LIKE YOU and THANK YOU.
I REALLY DON’T LIKE YOU because you put me into fear of paralysis and wheelchair aerobics to the tune of Richard Simons for the rest of my existence and THANK YOU because you gave me one of the 3rd biggest wake up calls of my life……
How much time have I spent past and present obsessing over the imperfections of my body? Way too much. How much time have I argued that if only I ran 6 miles a day and not just 3, my life would be so much better? Insanely too much. How often have I been thankful that all of my limbs work and are fully functioning? Not enough. How often do I thank God for making me a healthy, beautiful woman who can go get any job and travel anywhere in the world without physical hesitations? Never…until today.
When I saw the crosswalk sign flash the little blue person walking I didn’t look both ways I simply, arrogantly ran. Taking for granted that not only could I walk, but I could run and that given the present space and time I was fully desrving of running and not getting hit by a car or a truck for that matter. But, that truck came so close to me that I just froze as it halted just a foot away from my whole body. I was smack dab in front of it. How lucky am I that I wasn’t hit? How lucky am I that I writing this blog without a scratch on my body. So lucky. Sooo sooo sooo lucky!
Today, I am grateful that that truck almost hit me because it has put my body into a new perspective to me. All day I have seen my hands typing, making art, picking up a child, hugging a friend, I have seen my feet walk to my car to go buy my favorite Pumpkin Spice Latte and hold the arm of a little girl while her Dad and I swing her in the air on 1…2….3!!!!! I’m grateful for my body just the way it is today…healthy. It’s my goal to accept my body just the way it is….beautiful, healthy and perfect in this very moment.
Thank you again little old man with “Big Truck Syndrome” you gave me a gift by almost mauling me into Dover Drive….the gift of “Gratitude for the moment.” Thank you..thank you…thank you…
xoxo
HonestChitChat
The Wolfs out of the bag…What men can learn from Edward and Jacob…
First of all Stephanie Meyer is an amazing romantic novelist and I don’t recall ever reading the cheesy line, “The wolfs out of the bag?” in New Moon. Watchout screenwriters cause I’m gonna “suck the dollar sign out of your paycheck.” Sorry 
…Anyway, so MEN! I think ya’all can learn a thing or two about courting the ladies from the Twilight saga. Though the masses of you have responded to the suggestion of reading the novels with the classic phrase, “I’m not Gay!” I think a step into the Cullen’s closet might get you some game.
So lets take it from the top. I saw New Moon in Newps last night with my gal pals from the “Were super intelligent and enjoy ready challenging books, but we use 1/3 of our time talking about Robert Pattinson and Twilight book club” Yeah so while waiting in line I mentioned to my friend Jamie that I totally did not understand what the fascination is with Jacob Black (Just in case you’re in the dark Bella, the beautiful hot chick in the movie is torn between two men, Jacob and Edward.) I mean I understand that between him and Edward Jacob is definitely the more fun, outgoing, carefree guy, but Edward is Mr.Strong, stoic, put together and yeah maybe a tad over protective and serious, but at the end of the day a woman wants to feel like her man is a “MANS MAN” he is calm, composed, in control of his actions and has her best interests at heart. Jacob is uncontrollable, stubborn and selfish BOY. He totally wanted Bella because it would make him happy, not her.
To me Jacob represents all the guys I have dated from clubs and bars. The guys who were a ton of fun, nice to look at, great to argue with, got my fire going and my adrenaline pumping but never really panned out. Why? Cause they’re boys. I don’t want to be in a relationship with a boy, I work with them everyday, I teach them and wipe their bottoms and let me tell you, they are a lot of WORK. Just think of the amount of time Bella is constantly arguing with Jacob trying to get her point across. Yeah, she argues with Edward, but Edwards always right
Anyway, if I could give any advice to the kind and sweet men that lament to me about the how sick and tired they are of lame girls who just want to dance, party, hook up and peace out I would ask them to consider what kind of vibe their giving out themselves? Are you being a Jacob or an Edward? Don’t forget Edwards the one strattling the girl up top.
Love you guys!
HonestChitChat
Jon & Kate +8 = Child Exploitation = ?
I can’t say I am a die hard Jon & Kate +8 fan who has watched since season 1. In fact I remember during season 3 I was at a “Girls Night In” dinner party and everyone wanted to watch it, I was like “Get rid of the diapers and pop in Sex and the City already.” But, I was vetoed. Everyone seems to love those brown babies. They are indeed cute, but I haven’t had much interest for the show until Jon and Kate separated. Contrary to the rest of America who has dwindled away from the show since the drama I have had a lot more interest in it. I don’t know if its my interest in human nature or just the sick part of me that wants to see exactly how this marriage crumbled in front of the US of A, but I have come to a couple of conclusions and still questions the biggest being are these kids being exploited?
My conclusion?
Yes, they are. I think the word exploited is pretty harsh and a pretty big claim to use against these kids parents, but the truth is these kids are being deprived of their privacy. Something every kid needs. Especially a kid whose parents are getting a divorce. I mean, I’m 26 and have quite a bit of recollection of my child hood. If there was someone there taping when I got in trouble, ate, when my parents fought and every detail of their divorce and not only watched but got ENTERTAINMENT out of it I think that would mess a bit with my psyche. Besides, I think it’s funny the way reality TV declares to be “reality” but how can it be when you have a boom mike and a camera man right there watching you? You’re either going to hold your feelings in or be even more obnoxious because someones watching.
I think the number one question here should be, “Is this show something positive or negative for these 8 kids?” Well, lets weigh the odds. On the positive side they get to take lots of nice trips to Hawaii, Utah, the desert, Disney World etc….They get financial security and they get to live in a large gated home. On the con side the stress of being on this show and all the travel greatly contributed to the stress of their parents marriage. As a result their family is a tabloid fodder. Their mother travels consistently for book signings and promos leaving them with nanny’s and just dad.
I’m a nanny, a school teacher and a rehab counselor. I know a couple of simple things about kids.
#1.) They don’t care if they have the hottest toy or if you’re a hot parent they want your attention and your time.
#2.) Kids need to know that their worth is beyond being cute, funny and entertaining. They need to know that there is something deep within them that you love. Not the fact that they are the bread winner of the family. Why do so many child actors turn to drugs and alcohol once they hit their teens? Because the cameras and lights go away making them conclude that they just must not be worth anyone’s time or attention anymore
#3.) Kids just want you to listen. They want to know that the details of the dream they had last night are interesting to you. They want to know that you are pissed that the little girl on the school bus pulled her hair. They want to know that you care enough to get food on the table yourself and eat dinner with them.
I think Jon and Kate truly love their kids. Who wouldn’t? But, sometimes love just isn’t enough. Sometimes “you have to be better than you ever thought you could be.” (Quote from Away We Go.) What that means is you have to pull all of yourself together and give your family all the kindness, tenderness and love you can muster. You have to make decisions that won’t make you the most wealthy or popular. Having 8 kids is not something I see myself signing up for, but it is the reality of Jon and Kates lives. And the reality is that each one of those kids needs a lot of love, care and attention to turn into fully rounded and secure human beings. I wonder if each of the 8 kids will get that between filming, their parents traveling and fighting for attention amongst themselves. Most likely not.
I have forfeited my TIVOing of Jon and Kate +8 for this season cause to me it = sadness.
Obnoxious girl or Classy woman?
I am a chick in the Dog House right now at the school where I teach art, one of my 3 jobs. Now, I’ve been in “Dog time-out” and the “Doggy grass area” but today I am officially in the Dog “House”. As in I don’t even want to sit in the Dog grassy area cause someone might see me. I’d rather be in the Dog House where I can hide from view.
You see today I was very kindly and respectfully told the following:
1.) The word “fornication” is a little too much to use with 8 year olds.
2.) When disciplining a kid it isn’t right to make them feel better by saying, “Just don’t let me catch you smoking a cigarette or throwing down a 40″
3.) We love what you did with your staff T-shirt, but that isn’t what were going for.
4.) Do you have any questions?
My reply. Stick my hands in my hoodie pockets and shake my head, “nope” and “I’m sorry” and walk out of the office. Yikes! I felt nauseous. If someone was eavesdropping on that conversation they would think I was some hoochie raised in the dirty south.(For your 411 I am neither ) and for the record this is the shirt I was wearing and I don’t see a midrift, but i get it, too much skin.
Anyways, I know I am very outgoing, outspoken and creative individual. These attributes are why they hired me in the first place. I’m confident that who I am is a well rounded individual and a good influence on my students, but even good people can cross the line sometimes and others a little more frequently. Obviously I am teetering on the frequently side.
This game of teeter totter has brought me to a very difficult question I need to ask myself. “When does it stop being acceptable to be an Obnoxious girl and necessary to be a Classy Woman?” I mean I’m gonna be 27 in less than a month and though my flamboyant and boisterous personality has served me well between the ages of 13 and 26 it seems as if it might not fly in 27 territory.
I don’t tread on this subject with much ease. I actually almost didn’t even blog about it here because it is something that is a sensitive subject for me. And (dare I say) “Becoming a woman” doesn’t seem to be a happy subject among teens or 20 somethings either. As my adorable sponsee said the other night. “Ewwww! I consider the word woman a cuss word. It’s gross. It involves panty hose and girdles and ewww! I’d rather be called an ‘adult’ over a woman any day” And I can’t say I haven’t thought the same things.
Over the past few years I have resisted any resemblance to woman hood. Whether it be painting my room hot pink and not a mauve pink because I want to have a color that reminds me of youth and in your face or going out, partying and dressing to be seen. The funny thing is I discovered that the hot pink color in my room wasn’t too feng shui with my energy and I had a hard time sleeping in my room or getting any writing done for that matter. Partying left me tired, late for work and depressed. In my own time I have discovered that what I cling to isn’t necessarily what I need or even want.
So how does paint and partying have anything to do with my language at work. Well, I guess it kind of has to do with the fact that I’m going to be trying to actually think before I speak. I reckon many friends and family will disagree and say, “You’re fine just the way you are. Screw them!” But I think if I was really true to myself (which I think is what people like about my non-filtered mouth) I would take the hint from the universe to evolve into the better me. The “woman” me.
Theres a really beautiful part of the bible that I have always loved, it’s Proverbs 31. It gives reference to the kind of woman a man should marry. Isn’t it funny that even in biblical times people got married and had kids at age 13, but still they referred to them as a “women”. I think its because being a woman isn’t necessarily about your age. It’s about your state of mind. I want to have the state of mind of someone with integrity, kindness, tact and class. I want to be a good woman.
She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and upon her tongue is the law of kindness. – Proverbs 21:26
Green with ENVY!!!! Cured with “G”
Don’t know if you’ve caught on yet, but I’m far from perfect. Shocking, I know. But, of all of my defects like….startling small children for laughs, eating more than the allocated “sample” at Trader Joes and calling it lunch, the lustful thoughts that occur in church and the sporadic facebook stalking…I think the worst one is being jealous. Ulghh! I said it out loud. I hate being jealous! When I get jealous I get that pit in my stomach. The one that feels the size of a plum and feels like it is growing branches that are poking at my face to roll my eyes and scrunch my brows in disdain. I hate feeling less than, small and inadequate, but how do I stop? I see something that you have that I don’t have, I want it and therefore I am jealous. End of story. But, can I really control this? Well, yeah, I actually did today for the first time.
I was journaling on my lunch break, (cause I’m freakin’ cool like that) and I wrote down everything I was jealous about….
“I’m jealous Mr.39 just told me he is going to Hawaii with his girlfriend.”
“I’m jealous that Polly looks really cute in that skirt.”
“I’m jealous that other people are more spiritual than me. Jerks!”
“I’m jealous that Mark comes up with bangin’ Art Lessons and steals my thunder.”
“I’m jealous that other people don’t have a f’d up eating disorder in their head and I do.”
So after writing all this out I get a friendly visit from my buddy, “G” the artist formerly known as “G-O-D”. And homeboy tells me….
“Sweet, adorable, beautiful, talented, sassy HonestChitChat… What do you miss out on when you are jealous of Mr. 39 and his relationship with his lady friend? “
Me: “Hmmm…..I dunno, maybe I miss out on the relationships I have right now?
G: “Uh huh…and?”
Me: “…. and I miss out on the good memories I have of my trip to Hawaii I took with my ex-boyfriend.”
G: “Hmmm….interesting and what do you miss out on when you get all jealous of the way Polly looks in her skirt?”
Me: “I miss out on appreciating how cute I look in my shorts?”
G: “Uh huh and what do you miss out on when you are jealous of how much more spiritual others are than you?”
Me: “I miss out on reflecting how much I have grown in my faith and how amazing my life is with the spirituality I do have.”
G:”What do you miss out on when you get jealous of Marks’ bangin Art Lessons.”
Me: “I don’t get to appreciate the amazing art lessons I have created and taught myself.
G: “What do you miss out on when you get jaalous of people who don’t’ have f’d up eating disorders?”
Me: “Did you just say f’d up?”
G: “Yes, homie I did.”
Me: “Just checkin….yeah so I don’t get to look at the strength, wisdom and character I have built from having this disease.”
G: “Girl, you’re so stinkin’ cute. I love you homie!”
Yeah, jealousy sucks, but it serves a purpose. It’s purpose is to remind us to be grateful for what we do have and even for what we did have. It reminds us to drink the glass that is half full, before it is empty.
Night peeps, I’m bloody tired. Jealousy is exhausting!
HonestChitChat
HOT!!! or not???
Some people are saying HOT! As in 818 + comments HOT! This picture in Glamour Magazine of 20 year old Lizzie Miller, a very curvy and very “skinny dippin’ ready” model created a tidal wave of approval from female readers. (See the 818 comments here) From the young 13 year old girl who is a size 6 to the mother of two who has stretch marks, this picture somehow liberates them. They say that they feel “validated” and “accepted” and they even say that, “magazines have it all wrong…if I saw more models who looked like me I would have the confidence to buy the clothes they advertise.”
20 year old, Lizzie Miller
I find these comments quite interesting. I’m not sure if it is common knowledge to the avid magazine reader, but I’ll give you the insider scoop (since I did an internship at a magazine in Los Angeles. That is until they made me file in a back room with no one to chit chat with. Cruel and unusual punishment is not my idea of “on the job experience” ) Anyway, so magazines have a marketing and advertising plan towards women that promotes women to “aspire” to their “optimum” self by viewing the images and purchasing the products seen in the magazine (A.K.A. giving woman a impossibly high standard of beauty that will have them spending $250 at the MAC counter trying to make themselves look like their “optimum self.” And when they don’t attain said beauty, they feel like crap and cover their feelings with the Twinkies they saw advertised on page 109.) This is the format that has been used to market to women. But according to these 818 + women they would like to see something other than a unattainable image. They would like to see something more like ….themselves.
Now is this hot or not? Lets pose a question: “What if not all, but just half the models in the magazines were a size 12 or 14? Like what if you opened up Vogue and saw a ad for Dolce and Gabanna and it featured a size 12 chick sprawled out on fur with the dramatic makeup they’re known for holding a purse. Would you dig it? Would you still purchase the brand? Is acceptance, real body sizes and authentic photographs HOT? Or are you stickin’ to the classic stick thin model? No judment. Just your answer please.
Honestly, I think that if I saw half of the models in Vogue as size 12 to 14 I would be a tad shocked. At first I’d be like, “Whats going on here?” I don’t read Vogue religiously or anything, but I do think that my eyes would take some adjusting to the new images, but like the human species I am apart of I would ADJUST. If I saw it in a magazine repeatedly, on billboards, on TV I would eventually get used to it and still purchase items from the companies I like. I think I would actually be more likely to purchase items from a company that is promoting a good cause, like TOM’S shoes or To Write Love on Her Arms. If there was a company that openly featured all kinds of women in their advertising I think I would dig it because it meant they stood for something more than fashion, they stood for acceptance and love and at the end of the day, thats what all women and men are really looking for and why they purchase those clothes in the first place.
But, thats my opinion. Whats yours? Would you still purchase clothes from your favorite brand even if they featured full figured women and men in their ads? Would it change the brand for you? Be honest…it won’t kill you. (After all, I’m still here.)
I WANT YOU…
I broke up with my boyfriend on a Sunday. We were in his backyard. We didn’t bother to sit in the chairs we just sat on the cement and looked at each other with that torturous expression of defeat. I told him that I had never loved anyone as much as I had loved him, but I knew I couldn’t marry him. We were silent for a long time…then he stabbed me…(no, not really, would have made some great literature though) …he, the person who I loved the most in the whole wide world, wiped away his tears, cleared his throat and said, “You’ll never find better.”
I didn’t cry… I sobbed ….the whole 35 minute drive home. By the time I got out of the car my green shorts were drenched in salty tears. Needless to say I was a hot mess at work on Monday. By 1 o’clock I had already used up two boxes of tissue and was working on a roll of toilette paper when a girlfriend of mine gave me specific directions to leave the office and eat. I put on my big OC sunglasses and drove down the street to Wendy’s. I took my potato outside to eat. The words “You’ll never get better” kept racing through my head. I questioned my decision, I questioned my worth, I questioned if anyone would ever love me as much as he did? I felt ill and then a boy of about 14 years old walked out of Wendy’s and straight up to my table. Stringy hipster blonde hair, skate boarder shirt and pants. He said, “Excuse me Miss? Hi, I just wanted to tell you that I think you’re beautiful. That’s all I wanted to say. You’re really beautiful. Okay, bye.” And walked away.
I was startled for a second and then I had a moment of clarity, “I am beautiful. This isn’t the last relationship I’m ever going to have. I’m gonna be okay.” Then I wondered what was that boy doing here? I was working in the business district of Irvine. There wasn’t a school, mall or skate boarding ramp for miles. Why did he even come up to me? I didn’t see any boys waiting on the side of the building laughing over a dare. Maybe you would sum up that experience as a mere coincidence. A spoof. I choose to call it a message from God that said, “I want you to know that no matter what, you’re loved.”
I didn’t think about that blonde teenager until tonight when I was talking to my lady friend Lindsey about her trip to Africa. She has just returned from a Mission Trip with our church ROCKHarbor. She was telling me about the wound clinic they held. Adults, kids and toddlers wobbled up to these tents to have their massive wounds mended. I guess these wounds are pretty gnarly. They start out as a small cut from a tree branch while their walking in a field. Because they don’t take regular showers that small cut gathers dirt. While they sleep flies start to feed off the cut. Eventually this small cut turns into a massive wound simply because of the lack of a shower and a clean living environment. So Lindsey and her Mission Team posse take some Benzyl Peroxide, Beta dine, Neosporin and band aids from the great US of A and simply mend their wounds. It isn’t a cure for AIDS it isn’t enough food to feed the entire country breakfast, it’s simply a message that says, “Hey I know your living condition really sucks right now, but I care about you and I’d like to give you a little lovin’ .”
When I heard about the Wound Clinic I instantly thought about the blonde haired boy at Wendy’s. I wondered if those people in Africa felt the same kind of reprieve I felt in the moment that I felt bruised and weak. I wonder if they were feeling unloved, forgotten, unnecessary human beings? I wonder what they thought when they met people from the other side of the world who just wanted to clean their wound? I wondered if they thought the same things I was thinking, “Where did you come from? Why are you being so nice? Why do you care?” And I wonder if the heard the message that I got that I mattered and no matter what I am still lovable.
Now you and I could get into a whole lot of arguments or as my dad likes to call them “discussions” about if Americans should be spending their money, time and energy flying around the world and helping people, when they could help their starving and wounded children down the street. We could argue how on earth I get the audacity to compare my spoiled and self centered American heart break to the children dying in Africa of Malaria. We could put our energy into that or we could try to show some humanity to our fellow earthlings…We could try to find some way to tell perfect strangers, “I want you to know that you’re loved.”
I saw the movie Away We Go last night. Friggin’ brilliant! One scene that stuck out to me is when the lead gal is really, truly scared and worried. The main dude character (Jim from the Office) just pulls her close to him. He wraps his arms around her, he holds her tighter and tighter. She just sinks into him for comfort and he gives it to her. You get the sense that he’s got her back….that she’s gonna be okay. When I saw that moment between them and I just couldn’t think of a more visual display of the human heart. A longing to be wanted, a longing to be loved, a longing to be cared for and a longing to be embraced…and held on to very tight.
I think if we were to eavesdrop on the minds around us we would find more heads that find themselves in the turmoil that “Maybe I’m not lovable?”…I’m not trying to get all hokie here, I’m just stating the facts, we’re human guys. NEWSFLASH: We ALL need love, We all need to be reminded t hat we are not forgotten and that we matter. I challenge you to spread the message this summer. It doesn’t have to be some big freakin thing. It could be daisies on your co-workers desk with a note that says. “You rock!” It could be just giving all of your friends hugs when you see them. Or you can go big and go on a mission trip with ROCKHarbor. I’m gonna do it. I don’t think I’m ready for the huts of Africa, but I think I’ll start in the huts of Watt’s in LA. In my very humble, yet very correct opinion I don’t think it really matters if we tell people their beautiful, put clean bandages on little kids or give the homeless man $5. It doesn’t matter the size of the message it just matters that its sent. Lets spread the lovin’ this summer. I’ll leave you with this very profound motto of mine that gets me in trouble and embarrassment from time to time, but it is out weighed by the amount of love and joy I am able to spread. “Lifes short, speak up.”
The most BEAUTIFUL WOMEN…
Maybe it’s because I live in Southern California, maybe it’s because I work with women with Eating Disorders or maybe it’s because we ‘re just too lazy to read the LA Times and consider something better to talk about, but lately I have found the debate over “whose a beautiful woman” to be on the rise. There are definitely some very passionate Angelina Jolie lip lovers, the D-cup envying Scarlett Johansen fans and some pale skin loving Kate Blanchett groupies….eh….to each their own. However, the debate is all relative to me. I mean maybe it’s fun to compare calves, butts, lips and hips, but If you ask me I think to really know if someone is beautiful you have to meet them in person.
You know how you can think a guy is so hot from across the room, but then he comes up to you and makes a comment about your butt in those jeans and all the sudden his smile isn’t so bright? Or a really beautiful woman you just can’t take your eyes off of starts talking about what a loser her dad is, all the sudden she looks kind of dull and ashy? Truly beautiful people have an aura about them. It’s like an energy, a magnet, maybe its a force that says, “Procreate with me! I”m beautiful and you want to touch me!” But, I definitely don’t think you can know that energy through a magazine cover….you have to feel it for yourself.
On the other hand we have to remember that “beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” Maybe some people like the chauvinistic guy who compliments the hours they have worked in the gym for their ripe gluteus maximus…and maybe some people like a blunt girl who tells perfect strangers that she has nick named her dad the “prick-meister-D.” But personally, I don’t. Who I think is one of the most beautiful women on the face of the earth is my 28 year old writing mentor, Jenny.
I have known Jenny for about 4 years now. Off the bat she is incredibly aesthetically beautiful. A petite, long haired brunette with big chocolate brown eyes, full red lips and a spray of sun kissed freckles across her face. At our first encounter I found her appearance and coy demeanor to be rather intimidating. I am someone who gets a lot of strokes to my ginormous ego by leading a room with humor and entertainment. Granted, I feed off other peoples applause and laughter. But, Jenny didn’t break out in laughter at every politically incorrect thing I said. Instead she would just raise her chin, squint her eyes and give a toothless grin.
If I had to tell you the most beautiful thing about Jenny, the thing that puts her whole package together, that makes you just want to squeeze her waist and pinch her cheeks it’s the fact that her whole body encapsulates A WOMAN THAT BELIEVES IN HERSELF AND KNOWS SHE IS BEAUTIFUL. Jenny has no hesitation about carving her own path in life far from the traditional American, college graduated woman. She studies people and life, she sees what feels good and what doesn’t and she goes from there. One might call her a rather unconventional woman. A talented educated , writer that has been offered amazing opportunities to work some very coveted jobs, but instead she works as a waitress and does some freelance writing in order to save money to travel. Right now she’s in love with a man who wants to marry her and be with her, but instead of doing the traditional thing of jumping into an engagement and getting married she has chosen to decline his invitation to live with him and instead continue pursuing the travel, writing and life goals that she has made for herself.
If you want to get sexy tips from anyone you should go over to Jenny’s house and just watch her. I think the sexiest I have ever seen her is during one of our “Mentoring Meetings”, when she was laying on the floor in her bedroom, she was wearing black faded yoga pants and a black tank top. She got all comfortable laying on her side and all the sudden said, “I’m really hungry. Excuse me.” She came back into the room with a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios sat down, looked me straight in the eyes, squinted and said, “So tell me, how are you doing? Don’t leave anything out.” I think I had to collect myself before I answered because I was just so taken back that a woman could be so sexy and beautiful when she’s sweaty, in faded clothes and eating her breakfast. So often we think of sexy as short skirts, smoky eye makeup, cleavage and cocktails, but those things would make Jenny just like any other chick from So Cal. She doesn’t need those things because she knows she is beautiful just the way she is. You can tell that her looks, her weight, her love life and her job are all things that she is proud of and doesn’t have to apologize for. Now, that’s sexy.
I wonder if we took celebrities off of their pedestal of attractiveness and had a little chat with them, how many would carry a strong enough character to match up to their looks? What makes a woman beautiful? It’s a very interesting and timely topic. Today we live in a world where 10 year old girls put themselves on diets…( I’m not lying read it here ) They have obviously gotten the message from Darwin that the pretty girl lives longer. Theres nothing wrong with beauty and sex appeal, I consider it good exercise for the eyes But lets not forget what the “fairest of them all is” (thank you Snow White) The most beautiful woman is A WOMAN THAT BELIEVES IN HERSELF AND KNOWS SHE IS BEAUTIFUL. A woman who doesn’t apologize for her choices, her weight or her clothes is beautiful. A woman like Jenny.
“To be nobody but yoursel in a world which is doing its best, night and day to make you like everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight and never stop fighting.”
– E.E. Cummings
I got into a CHICK FIGHT…
I got into a chick fight…I seriously don’t think there is going to be anyone more shocked to read those words than I am right now. Trust me, if you knew me you would NEVER guess that I, the church goin, baby sittin’, cookie bakin , smile wearin, girly girl from Newport would be seen throwin blows at another chick in front of Rudy’s on the Peninsula. But, as they say, “Life is stranger than fiction.”
Now if you were to pull me aside while I lay tanning by the pool on a warm June afternoon and ask me to make up a scenario of a real life chick fight I could possibly get into I would probably sit up, reapply some tanning oil and say, “Okay, well first I would have to be a very sunk drunk off four shots of Gold Schlagger, 3 shots of patron, 4 Margaritas and one Adios Mother F*$#%^. It would definitely be in the middle of a cheesy casino in Vegas like the Stardust at like 3 in the morning. It would be started after some chick cracked out on coke tried to take my winnings from my $3600 jackpot, after I put $100 on red 24 at the roulette table. She would be running for the exit, but I would jump on her back in the middle of the casino. All of my chips would go flying in the air, but passerby’s wouldn’t try to gather them. They would be too fixated on me trying to hand cuff the crack head with the elastic from my hair.” Now, that is exactly what DIDN’T happen.
What did happen is I was completely sober last Saturday evening. Yes, SOBER. As in one RedBull and a water. I strolled on down to Rudy’s with a lady friend of mine who was meeting up with a boy. The boy was super chill, his wing-men were witty and cute, but his posse of lady friends sitting on the patio weren’t too friendly. They sat on the patio while I danced on tables and tried to get everyone in the bar to do the dance moves to Thriller with me. I’m just one of those people who don’t need alcohol to make a fool of themselves, I can do that all on my own. It also helps that I ran into a few guy friends from High School. They joined in on my dancing antics.
It’s funny dancing with boys that you’ve known since the 5th grade. You remember the 8th grade dance when they built up sweat beads just putting their hand on your waist, then they build up the courage to touch your butt at prom (of course after they’ve drank a six pack of beer with a straw out of their jacket.) But when your 26 and have a body full of testosterone ready to mount, they don’t hesitate to grab, grind and swing you around the local pub like you’re going for gold on, Dancing with the Stars. Now, I was laughing my head off, the chicks on the patio…not so much. I kept seeing them glaring me down through the big glass wall between the dance floor and the patio. Next thing I know one of the guys with the group of girls comes up to me and starts dancing. I go with it. He moves me across the dance floor/bar floor…I go with it. He puts his hand down my pants and tries to put his hand up my….I don’t go with it. Assuming he’s drunk and out of it. I push him away and go find my guy friends. They say, “Whats wrong?” I just bottle it in and smile and say, “Nothin’ I’m cool.”
A couple hours later my guy friends leave, I’m showing off solos on the dance floor when another one of the guys from their group approaches me to dance…I go with it. He goes low to the floor…I go low to the floor….He goes super low…I go super low… He turns around and practically sits on me as I fall back on the floor. I see him get up, walk away and go high-five the girls on the patio…I don’t go with it or bottle it in. I walk up to the girls on the patio and say, “I’m sorry, but I have noticed a lot of negative energy from you tonight. Did I do something to offend you and your friends?” The chick with the glasses says, “No, honey. You’re just too drunk to realize what’s going on. Don’t worry about it” I say, “Actually, I’m not drunk. I don’t drink.” She looks at me like a very prejudice and ignorant woman looks when she’s made a very big mistake.” I say, I just like to have fun, but I feel like I have offended you guys someway and I’d like to clear the air.” She says, “Don’t worry about it.” And gives me a fake smile. Fuming I go up to my lady friend and say, “We need to leave.” We go to the bathroom and I explain everything that has happened over the course of the evening. She says she wants to try to smooth it out with the girls since they are close with the guy she likes. As I’m in the bathroom I repeat the words, “Integrity and respect…treat all people with integrity and respect. Don’t hurt anybody HonestChitChat. Violence is never the answer. Integrity and Respect.”
I take a deep breath and we leave the bathroom. MY lady friend goes up to one of the girls to talk it out. I see the guy who tried to stick his hand up my crotch and the sanity switch in my head loses power. I go up to the guy and push him against the glass wall between the bar and the patio. He had his back to me (I’m a cheap fighter) A few of the girls scream while I go “bam- bam style” pounding on his back. I don’t know who, but someone pulls me off of him. All of the sudden 5 angry, clenched fisted girls come after me. My lady friends boy toy who is like 6 bagillion feet tall puts his arms out and his wing span holds all these girls and guys back while security tells me I need to leave the building.
I laugh it off while I strut to the car, I gloat to my lady friend, “Don’t mess with me!” Then 20 paces away from my car comes all of those 5 angry girls after me. One girl grabs my shoulders and shakes me. She says, “Who do you think you are? You can not get away with hitting my friends! You are going to be so sorry! ” She starts pushing me to the ground while I yell out what that guy did to me in between crying and screaming. She pulls me up and yells, “You’re a liar! He’s my fiancé! I have known him for 18 years! He would never do that!” My lady friend tries to get between us. The girl lets go of one of my shoulders and grabs her arm. Another girl comes up and grabs her other arm. My lady friend says, “She wouldn’t lie. She doesn’t’ lie.” The girl screams back at her, “She’s a whore who dances on tables! Of course she would lie.” My lady friend says, “Okay lets say she’s lying then. She’s a whore who lies. Then you have no reason to hurt her. She’s just a stupid girl who made it up.” There’s a crowd of guys watching now and people saying, “Just let them go.” She lets go of us both as she screams that she’s going to find me and to never come back there again. I get into my car. My lady friend and I both burst into tears when the “wing man” runs up to my car and knocks on my window. I blow him off and drive away.
I believe that in every person I meet, in every experience I have there is something for me to learn from. This may sound like a joke coming from a girl from Newport, but I think this experience allowed me to truly empathize what it’s like to be racially stereotyped. (*No, not know what its like, EMPATHIZE) I mean I don’t know what it was about me, but whether it be my curly brown hair, the way I was dressed in jeans, a pink top and silver high heels, the way I danced with my friends or the volume of my scream when I danced with my friends, but this group of people decided they did not like me. When I did try to make peace with them I was mocked. When I stuck up for myself the situation turned dangerous. I’m reading the Autobiography of Malcolm X right now. Its interesting the parallels I find in that book and this situation. I know I was wrong to attack that guy like that, but I stuck up for myself. And as far as I’m concerned up until the point that I threw that guy into the glass I was keeping my side of the street clean as a human being. I was not intoxicated, I was enjoying a night out with friends and was simply being my fun loving self. But, somehow being “myself” was not okay around these people. I’ll stop making a grocery list defending why I am most definitely not in the wrong and I try to see where I am….
I admit that I am guilty of stereotyping people. I have looked at people and have assumed that I know their back story, their motives and what they ate for dinner. I’ve been on this earth for 26 years and don’t ya know I know a thing or two about people. But, what I didn’t know until the other night at Rudy’s is how harmful and unserving that skill is. It is my goal this week to try to talk to the people I think I would have nothing in common with. Talk to people who I have overlooked and usually ignored. Maybe my prejudices will be somewhat true, but maybe they won’t. What I do know is that what happened to me the other night should never happen to anyone. I can’t intervene in every bar in America and as nice as it would be for every person on earth to read my blog, that isn’t mechanically possible. What I can do though is control myself.
Peace Out,
HonestChitChat AKA”The OC Rocky”
