Summer of Suck: 2016 so far

I don't know if the world has always felt this dire, or if I'm just now realizing how scary things are because I am learning so much these days. Paying attention and listening. I'm guessing that it's always been a terrible time to open your eyes, but a lot of hate is boiling to the surface (the top of the Facebook feeds?) and it's harder than ever for me to compartmentalize.

On a much MUCH smaller scale, this summer has been really weird for my family. Our move has been delayed, we're staying in temporary housing, our things are in storage. We have arranged for, canceled, and rescheduled our utilities/cable/contractors in what seems like an endless loop. We were going to spend much of July working on our house to make it clean and livable- that's been pushed back a month. Small potatoes compared to the horror of this election/social justice in our country right now, but being out of our routines, sleeping on the floor, uncertainty, and having our things (MY BOOKS) packed away has been difficult. The preschoolers are adjusting better than I am.

Last summer felt drastically different. I went on a couple of trips sans kids and worked on my novel a ton and day drank and decorated my office. I'm not sure if the national narrative was as rough- it could have been, but I wasn't paying attention. Donald Trump was a joke. I was carefree. I bought an instant camera and spent whole afternoons ordering clothes for my sister's wedding. It was nice. But it wasn't lasting. The fall was all parties, weekends away, celebrations. I turned 30 and realized I was at a place full of comfort- no stretch. So 2016 became the year change. It's kind of sucked to have my year of putting my family through lots of change happen at the same time as a universe of shit is hitting the fan about the way non-white cis people are treated in this country, buuuuuut this is another lesson in the life course titled Hi Ashlie, This World Does Not Revolve Around You.

This year I have tried to balance my place in the national narrative (privileged white woman who needs to listen and signal boost voices more intelligent/ignored than mine, fat woman who needs to loudly celebrate her body regardless of how uncomfortable it makes anyone), my voice on the internet (blogging, Book Riot, and especially on Facebook where there are average characters from your real life insisting ALL LIVES MATTER and getting annoyed when you come down hard on the side of social justice), my place in my family (matriarch, so act it, lady- pull yourself together, spend out on a good mattress, and buckle down to change your address with the post office for the 17th time this summer), my place in my community (you're lucky as hell to have these people, you're lucky as hell to have these people), and my own self-care needs (alone time, alone time, alone time). Throughout a lot of roller coaster situations within my family and as I'm witnessing the horror of the way humans are often treated in my very own country, keeping these roles in mind has been mildly helpful.

There is a quote that I am paraphrasing (butchering) about years that ask questions and years that give answers. This is a year that is asking a question, and that question is WTF?, but I do not think this is the beginning of the apocalypse. It's a time for people who feel a little bit weird about what they see and hear to solidify their stance and vocalize it. You don't have to pick a fight with every great aunt in the world, but you should know how you feel and know how to say it. (As Hamilton would chide us- if you stand for nothing, what'll you fall for? OOH) If you are someone who is in the habit of speaking out against injustice, don't forget to give yourself breaks, because being told you are a stupid idiot for your views (no matter what they are) wears you down.

The world is not hopeless, because Michelle Obama slayed last night, and also because YOU are in it, and you are part of what makes it better. That's corny but it's true. Yeah, this has been a summer of suck, but we are the only damn things that will improve it. Be Your Own Lady challenge: tell me one thing about this summer (or 2016 in general) that has been really, really good. Let's change the narrative. 

Three Ways to Celebrate Your Glorious Bod (Yes. It's Glorious.)

Self love is kind of an exhausting concept. We all KNOW that we're supposed to love ourselves. Pinterest boards, internet memes, and annoying coworkers like myself are constantly reminding you to love yourself. Sparkly t-shirts and soap advertising and yogurt companies are demanding that you love yourself. The message is developing that you're not a REAL woman unless you LOVE YOURSELF, DAMMIT. Add in the pressure of loving your BODY, a mission fraught with baggage and insecurity, and most people would rather get a root canal than have an honest discussion about their positive qualities. So let us address the elephant in the room: loving your body is painful work. It's undoing hurt and embarrassment, it's letting go of impossible expectations, it's facing possible rejection. Loving your body feels like all the things we've been told to eschew: pride, vanity, self absorption. Loving your body is not an end game. It's something you just keep working at.

Below I've listed some actionable tasks that can help you celebrate your bad ass body- especially timely as we in the northern hemisphere are headed into the summer season. Like all work worth doing, there are tangible rewards involved, so read to the end to enter a giveaway that I am so, so excited about! Without further ado, some summer body love tips.

1. Look at yourself in the mirror.

ASHLIE, I already do that! I can hear you sighing. Some of you have already clicked out of this window. Buzzfeed lists about TGIF shows are better than this (fair point). But I'm not talking about the glance you give yourself when you're washing your face, the critical eye you use to check your outfit for stains/rolls, the careful study you make if you apply eyeliner (HARD SHIT). I'm talking naked, chicky, and for more than a second. Here's something that happens when you're bombarded with messages about what you're supposed to look like: you forget what your body ACTUALLY looks like. You sort of separate yourself from your physical shape, and when you do  look and see yourself, if something doesn't meet that particular body shape you're always striving for, you look away, quickly.  You should not avert your eyes from the actual thing that carries you around.

Really check yourself out. Admire the shape of your body. Find parts to become enamoured with. Maybe it's your collarbones or the swell of your breasts or the way your butt looks when you stick it out and look over your shoulder. Wear your favorite underwear (I'm really into these lately) and give yourself a twirl. Catalogue your different body parts. Know yourself. I have two different sized breasts and a large pouch of belly fat that hangs. I could lose 100 pounds and still have this shape, so I look at it and familiarize myself with me. I really love my overall silhouette, the way my hips flare out, my calves. I wouldn't see these things if I didn't spend a good amount of time staring at myself naked.

Bonus points: Take a nude picture of yourself. Do not panic if this makes you panic. Some of us are there. Some of us are not. Consider where you are. We have villainized nudes in every way in this culture, because...the naked body is gross? The naked body is currency? No. Your naked body is yours, and looking at it, in the mirror, on a camera, by yourself, zero judgement, is an excellent celebration of the flesh and blood that houses your soul.

2. Load up your social media with glorious babes.

This has been extremely powerful for me. When I was a young mom, I was a deep observer of the mommy blogger scene. I read their updates and followed their Instagram and Twitter accounts and I could not figure out how real people with tiny children kept their houses so stylish, their white sofas so white, their children so occupied with only three wooden toys, etc. The more I saw what these other families looked like (strangers, far away, who did not give a shit about me) the more I panicked about my failures. This is the great drawback of social media- the comparison factor. It can be as bad as photoshopped models in magazines, except these are somehow real people. I know a lot more now about photo staging and using filters to make your sunlight look *that much* brighter. But I also know that who I follow directly affects how I feel.

Armed with this knowledge, I have filled up my feed with women who are powerful and lovely to me. Because I have often felt bad about being a fat person in our culture, I follow women who actively identify as fat or plus size and post pictures of themselves. I am normalizing, for myself, fat bodies in bikinis, shorts, on the beach, traveling overseas, having good days and bad days, being real and lovely people. And it empowers the hell out of me. Whatever you're trying to normalize for yourself, search out Instagram, Twitter, Snapchat accounts that are honest about this particular thing and join the community! Poke around, follow and unfollow, find accounts that make you pump your fist in the air.  We're scrolling through our social media accounts constantly, so be a picky curator of what you're constantly exposing yourself to. Some of my favorites include The Militant Baker, Aarti Olivia Dubey, Virgie Tovar, Tess Holiday, Tara O'Brien Illustration (omg her art), and actually a ton more so I suggest checking out who I follow.

Bonus Points: Participate in a Follow Friday on one of your social media accounts. On Fridays, people use the hashtag #followfriday and highlight accounts they think their followers would appreciate. Keep it from being spammy by tagging an account you truly admire and adding a short sentence about why you love this feed and why you think others would, too.

3. Take pictures of yourself.

A lot of pictures. Outfit pictures, selfies, pics in your bathing suit, pics of your dinner, with coffee and books and and drinks and every prop you can think of. Casual snaps and elaborately posed portraits, all made up or the way you woke up. Take a lot of pictures of yourself and post them EVERYWHERE.

I try to be open minded and come from a place of no judgement, but I am still infuriated when people have something to say about [teens especially] who post a lot of pictures of themselves. The worst are socially liberal people who understand that we shouldn't judge other people's lives but turn around and make snarky comments about the content or quantity of THE PHOTOGRAPHS A PERSON POSTS. I take some good natured ribbing about the amount of pictures I share, and I post everything- tub pics and arty photos in the good light from the driver's seat of my car and pictures of myself looking a little rough. I used to feel self conscious about it, but I'm kind of past that point. Now if someone says something, I try to smile and reply with "Thanks, I love that shirt!" or "The light was so awesome!" I recently showed up late to a party and a ton of my friends made fun of me for posting a picture of myself reading in a bubble bath. I shot back, "You're at a party, get off your phone!" Don't. Let. People. Give. You. Shit. For. Your. Selfies.

I was so deeply inspired by the above video. Fabulous fat role model women talking about their lack of limitations, celebrating the way they buck the traditional attitudes fat people are supposed to have: constantly trying to shrink, endlessly apologetic.  At one point, you hear this quote as you're seeing clips of fat women absolutely slaying: "It's really up to us to change the narrative, and to share photos of ourselves, follow each other, and show each other that this is what women look like...we are breaking the internet." I took that as a personal challenge.  Because of my devotion to internet role models I've been collecting from the corners of the internet, I have completely changed the way I allow myself to dress and operate as a person in this world. Think of it this way: your selfie will hurt no one, but it might save somebody.

Bonus points: Take a picture of yourself every day for the whole summer. I've started and I will not stop.  I'm using the hashtag #BYOLSummerOfSelfies and I would love it if you did, too. I want your selfies. I'm greedy for them. Flood the internet with pictures of your gorgeous self.

Extra bonus points: Work on posting pictures of yourself that you don't 100% adore. I'm focusing on my thighs and stomach, things I've lived at least 25 of my 30 years trying to hide- this summer they are on display. Some of my pictures are filtered to the hilt and I look like a porcelain doll and I love that, but I'm trying to make sure that some of my pictures honor the non-fantasy version of myself. You don't always have to wait for the perfect shot. On the other hand, there is zero judgement if you take 76 pictures til you get the shot you like. I do that, too.

*If you hate selfies, that's okay, too. Just don't make fun of anyone else for loving them!

So there. Three tiny challenges. This is not a magic bullet or a fail-safe prescription-  the final product of an never-doubted, perfectly-loved body is a unicorn, but it's a NOBLE goal to keep working towards, even if it's a little bit at a time. Some of this will put you outside of your comfort zone. If you are ready, do the work. It is so valuable, and if you share it, I can promise you at least one cheerleader who is already so damn proud of you for even considering.

I did promise rewards, and this one is FABULOUS. If you follow me on Facebook or Instagram, you know about my current love affair with Feminist Sticker Club. This monthly subscription service promotes indie artists, supports feminist charities, and has the best customer service I have ever encountered. I've spent most of this year's summer days toting around a water bottle with my beach body sticker prominently displayed, and I get so many compliments, not to mention the little thrill of body pride I feel every time I catch a glimpse. The chance to share this bad assery with you ladies makes me swell. Kelly, the braintrust behind Feminist Sticker Club, has generously donated a SIX-MONTH SUBSCRIPTION for me to giveaway. You want to win this.

How? Check out the Rafflecopter below! You can win entries by following Be Your Own Lady and Feminist Sticker Club on Facebook and Twitter. You can win DOUBLE entries by posting which body love challenge you're going to try, sharing one of your own, and posting your selfies with the hashtag #BYOLSummerOfSelfies. I told you, I'm greedy for pictures of you. You can rack up entries until Friday, when I will pick a winner!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Image credits: 1 / 2 / 3 (my own) / 4

Thoughts After 3 Weeks on Medication

It's been a little quiet here. It's been a little quiet in my reading life. It's been a very quiet in my Scrivener document, where I write my novel. I have been laying low, for many reasons. One big one? I started medication for generalized anxiety disorder, and I've been sleeping. A lot.

I had a physical three weeks ago, and it happened to fall right in the middle of a Very Stressful Time. We had just accepted an offer on our house, and we had a small window of time to find a new home. You know, the home we expected to meet our family's needs for the next thirty years? That one. We needed to find it in a matter of weeks, while working full time with little to no childcare for ANY non work hours. Our family rhythms had also shifted in January, with Ben home during the day and working nights and Saturdays, and it was hard. Hard on the (bored) kids, hard on Ben and I. Add in evenings and weekends being dragged to look at houses where you weren't allowed to touch anything, and our family was...raw. Snapping at each other. We were in survival mode.

What a beautiful problem to have, right? Touring potential new homes? I don't fail to recognize that only privilege of a special kind can turn this opportunity into something to be endured. House worries were not my only anxiety, though. Over a stretch of several months, I had found myself getting into something that I would describe as "thought loops." I would say something at work or write something on the internet and then obsess over my wording, terrified that I had offended someone or that my words would be taken the wrong way. I would think of a possible worse-case scenario involving one of my students, and then perseverate on it until I had to hide my phone so I wouldn't call and check with parents at three in the morning. For all my talking about myself, I'm a terrible self-reflector, but I'm fairly certain these were recent personality developments. I used to be good at shrugging things off, or at least as good as the average citizen. These new worrying behaviors were making me miserable.

So at this well-timed physical, I checked off "nervousness" on the form where you talk about recent symptoms. The chatty nurse came back to the room with another mental health form, rolling her eyes. "Sorry, but you checked off one of the no nos, so you have to fill this one out. Circle all zeros and they'll leave you alone." Yeesh. I answered honestly, marking off how many times in the last month my nervousness had made me feel sad or unmotivated, how often I was unable to stop thinking about something upsetting, how often I had mood swings. When my doctor came in, she read the form, checked her schedule, and said that because she had no appointments after me, we were tackling this today. We talked about coping strategies, meditation, regular physical exercise, and therapy, all things that I have tried and some of which had been extremely helpful to me in the past. Very quickly, though, we arrived at medication, and I was surprised at how easily it was brought up an how much it was encouraged. I thought she would push other methods of handling my anxiety and ask me to come back. The thing that really got me was her description of it as a tool that could get you through tough times (house buying, legal paperwork, moving with toddlers?) and her insistence that we could constantly revisit whether I wanted to stay on it.

I left with a birth control renewal, a directive to take a women's one-a-day, and a prescription for an anti-anxiety medication.

This was about a month ago, and things have changed. In fact, it is a whole new world in our family. This new medication has altered our home life in a way that I could not predict. See, I knew my worries were making me upset, but I had no idea how much they affected my moods. Whenever I am scared or unsure, my knee jerk reaction is to get mad- I've been this way my whole life. So when I was worried a lot, I was mad a lot. When I am mad in public, I tamp it down. I am a Libra, a diplomat, and I make sure everyone is happy. When I am mad at home, my anger is loud and quick and huge. No one outside of my family is privy to the way I can fall apart when I lose my temper. It's big. Big decisions make me fight or shut down altogether. Until now.

A week or so into my new med, Ben and I had to decide what offer to put in on a house that we were fairly certain was The One and The Only One For Us. Ben wanted to offer low, very low, figuring that the house needed a lot of work and it was the opening of negotiations. I felt that we were buying someone's family home and I didn't want to insult the owners. We went back and forth, explaining our sides. I was nervous, but Ben insisted, "They'll just counteroffer! This is the right move."  I nodded. "Okay." He looked at me weird. It took him three more cautious days to admit it, but he told me, "I've known you for 12 years, and you have never stopped in the middle of an disagreement with an 'okay.' In fact, the entire process of putting in that offer would have caused huge blowouts a month ago." I realized he was right. Moving into our first home had been incredibly stressful, resulting in huge fights that I am humiliated to recall. My fear and worry about the big changes in our lives had translated into little microbursts of rage. I was blamed "my temper." I never ever realized that medicine could affect these unpleasant emotions that I just figured were an unwelcome part of my personality.

In the past month, I cannot recall one single outburst that felt like a loss of control. I have been able to face challenges and stressful scheduling and minor family emergencies without spiralling and taking out on my husband or berating myself mentally. It has been truly life changing.

I don't want to sugarcoat this experience. There have definitely been drawbacks. As the medicine builds up in my system, I can feel myself getting more and more sleepy during daytime hours. I'm a person who has always loved waking up early, but in the past month, that has gotten harder and harder. Sometimes my eyelids flutter shut even as I'm drinking my coffee. I've had an incredibly difficult time getting to the gym in the evening, which used to happen at least three times a week- these days, I'm just too tired, even with extra sleep in the morning. The gym is my number one reading time, so as that time has dropped away, so has my interaction with books, something that greatly improves my mental health. I've had trouble getting into any book lately, and I can't tell if that's because of the medicine or just where I'm at right now. And my writing has taken a huge hit. I can usually sit and have a post come flying out of my fingertips, edit it up and have it published within an hour. This post has taken me three days four days a solid week to write, not because I'm unsure about sharing, but...sentences are harder to find. Words are more jumbled. And it's easier to just save what I have and drift away, where leaving a post unfinished used to really bother me.

The best way I can describe it is that everything feels like it's turned down. Like before I was at eleven, and someone clicked me back to five. 

There are ways to tweak this. I have an appointment tomorrow to discuss my progress on the drug and I am going to ask if I can try a lower dosage. I can also flex my willpower muscles a little more for the things that are truly important to me. I used to use my willpower to try and keep from blowing up over little things. If I failed, I yelled at my family. If this new normal means I exercise willpower to keep my hobbies in my life, and failure means a missed day of writing or one less chapter of a book, my more pleasant home life is worth it. For my husband and my kids and myself.

I want to make sure to stress that I am not a doctor and I am SURE that this course is not the best for everyone. This is definitely not a tacit endorsement of medication for all. It's a little spooky to realize that a small pill has so much control over my life and my emotions, but for me, it's also comforting to have help quieting a part of me that keeps me from feeling like the woman I want to be. I may not feel this way forever, but my doctor assured me that the conversation about whether this is the best for me is always open, and that, too, is comforting. 

I've always shared about my health on this blog, mostly because I overshare and talking about myself is one of my favorite hobbies. I also felt drawn to write this down after reading this great piece by Veronica Roth, a popular YA author who shared her story to encourage others who are struggling with mental health. Nothing is too small or silly to go unnoted- talk to your doctor about how you're feeling. If they dismiss your concerns, find another doctor. I have built a really special relationship with my primary care provider by being blunt even when it's uncomfortable, and she, in turn, listens to me and guides me. I trust her.  If your doctor doesn't make you feel safe and cared for, find another. You deserve a positive health care experience, no matter who you are or what symptoms you're struggling with. 

I would be happy to answer any questions you have about my personal situation, building a relationship with a health care provider, or anything at all that crosses your mind. Take care of yourselves as best you can, accept help whenever you want to, and never let anyone question the way you choose to live in your glorious body.

Some links for further reading:

http://fatfriendlydocs.com/ A list of fat friendly doctors listed by state and region, a great starting point for finding an open minded health care professional.

https://findtreatment.samhsa.gov/  Behavioral Health Treatment Services Locator- completely anonymous, let's you find the help you need in your area.

Both of the above links are from the indispensable resources page put together by The Militant Baker. 

Word of the Year 2016: Finish

I love the week leading up and the month following a new year. It's a dreamer's paradise. SO many I'm-going-tos with zero harsh realities busting bubbles. That's for February.  I also love the best-of lists that recap the previous year. I've read about the best books, best movies, best pictures, biggest highlights, most important news stories. I adore every second of it. 

I went back and looked at my own 2015 and realized that I really lived the life last year. For the most part, it was a constant party (especially during the months of September and October, when I was literally celebrated for huge chunks of time) and I spent a lot of time doing exactly what I wanted to do. I traveled alone. I devoted hours and hours to myself and my hobbies. The amount of pleasurable adult time I was granted kind of blows my mind- I can't believe I was able to pull that off with a 2-year-old and a 3-year-old. I was selfish. It was good.

But it's not sustainable for a life. I'm considering 2015 The Year I Celebrated Adulting (turning 30) By Acting Like A Teenager. As a result of that, 2016 has become The Year I Buckle Down.

Naming this year turns my stomach,

I don't want to buckle down. I have had a taste of a life that I should have been pursuing much earlier, and I am frankly hooked. I got married young and started my career young and did not spend enough time reading until dawn, drinking on the beach, writing stories for the fun of it, and going to themed events as I should have. I spent a lot of 2015 turning to Ben and saying, "What the hell did I do with my hours of free time before I had kids?!" The honest answer is I ate a lot of junk food, smoked cigarettes on our crappy back porch, and struggled with depression. So I'm glad I'm finally hitting my stride, even if it's a little late.

Despite my whining, I'm ready to Adult a little harder this year, because there is work to be done. I used a lot of logic to pick my word of the year, but honestly what got me started was realizing that two of the TV shows I obsessed over this year are languishing, unfinished, in my Netflix queue (I have one season left of Buffy and two seasons left of Doctor Who). I have stopped SO many important conversations with my friends because they don't want to spoil the Slayer's final battle. I will finish the shows I start.

Other things need to be finished, too. Ben and I just spent some time with a realtor friend and we are going to put our house on the market. (Another sentence that turns my stomach. Teeth clench emoji goes here) We've tried this before, but things are looking more hopeful this time. Also, my kids have grown out of their crib-sized mattresses and new beds don't fit in their room, so we don't really have a choice! Our biggest job in getting the house market ready is to GET RID OF STUFF, and my biggest challenge is sorting through things without spending 3 hours rereading my college notes from Child Psychology. I have inexplicably saved them, and about 1000 other stacks of paper/old greeting cards/ticket stubs. I'm going to have to be focused to get through this process, and focus is not my forte. I will finish getting this house ready to sell, and fast.

Lastly, I have some medical issues that need to be addressed. Blood work that hasn't been done since the last time I really focused on my health (when it was a goal for 2013), an issue with my foot that I keep ignoring (which I know is the worst possible reaction), decisions about my birth control which actually become much larger family planning decisions which bring us back to the whole house issue.

I buried my head in the sand about all of this for all of 2015. It was more fun to follow authors on Twitter and put nips in my iced coffee.

In 2016, I will finish. I will be more decisive and focused, even if it means talking to a doctor about the bigger reasons behind why I can't seem to focus. I will pour a little more of myself into my family, and let myself get into deeper conversations about where and how we will live without hiding behind my phone. I will honor my children and husband by talking frankly about my health with a doctor. I will finally finish Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

What are you tackling this year? (If you like pop culture at all, the predictions/resolutions episode of Pop Culture Happy Hour was particularly satisfying to me.) Happy 2016, lovelies. 

In My Next 30 Years

I remember listening to this Tim McGraw song when I was younger. I thought it was pretty clever, all about the things he was going to do in his NEXT 30 years...watch his weight, hang out with his family, drink less beer. I think he might have alluded to finding God again. It made 30 seem old. Ancient. Hang up your hats, guys, your fun is over, time to settle down.

I've been thinking a lot about ten years ago. I spent the last night of my teens crying. I was living in a little apartment on Highland Avenue with an older guy and I loved the novelty of being his teenage girlfriend. I liked being younger than all the people I went to college with. I wanted to do everything quickly, so I could do it YOUNG- get married, have kids, start my career.  Last night, in the last night of my twenties, I made my grandmother's banana bread, kissed my kids goodnight, and pretended to work out while I read a book on the treadmill. I thought about my full, full life and how glad I am that it's impossible to get your 19-year-old wish of staying "young" forever.

I'm 30 today. I kind of hoped I'd wake up with some blast of maturity and knowledge, but I fell asleep on the couch watching The Fly when I snapped to at 3:50 am, curled into a weird position with drool drying on my chin, I thought, "HOLY SHIT, I'm 30!" and went to bed without washing my face. I guess it's going to take the legwork to keep getting awesomer, but I'm definitely finding it easier with each passing year.  Here are a few things I figured out so far.

GIRLFRIENDS ARE KEY

I've sucked at this for most of the first third of my life. I could blame it on losing my dad (I've tried to justify it in this way) but in all honesty, I know that my personality craves attention, and male attention most of all. Especially in high school and my early college months, I would often go after relationships with guys, romantic or platonic, at the expense of my female friendships. I never claimed to be one of those "girls who gets along better with guys" [I heavily side-eye this statement from anyone], but I was a crappy friend to lots of people who deserved better treatment. I'm sorry.

At this point in my life, I'm finally in relationships with several women who are EVERYTHING to me: therapist, confidante, mentor, hilarious entertainment. Home. These are the people who diagnose my symptoms when I can't tell if I should call the doctor, indulge me with hours of talking about young adult literature, tell me when I need to get over myself and apologize to my husband, suggest gymnastics camps for my toddlers, leave love notes on my desk at work, text me articles about my favorite fandoms, or show up with Thai food on the night before my birthday. Some of these women I see every day, and some of them are only a text or a call from me, but all of them make my life SO much richer. I wish I had realized how much better I could be if I invested in the female friendships that I was so lucky to have in high school and college. WHATEVER AGE YOU ARE, GIRLFRIENDS ARE KEY.

SLOW DOWN

To a sloth's pace. I'm not going to reference two country songs in one post, but there's an Alan Jackson song called You're Gonna Miss This, and now I've done it. STOP RUSHING. There is time, and if you allow yourself to have it, you might come to a better decision. Lots of what I did in my twenties is because I thought it was what was NEXT. I'm dating someone. Next is getting married! I'm in an apartment. Must be time for a house! I've graduated college. QUICK, get a job with a ridiculously high level of responsibility that directly affects LIVES! 

I want to be clear that I love my husband and I'm fond of my house and I'm proud to be in my 9th year of teaching. But I did things without thinking. I was lucky that Ben turned out to be such an incredible husband and father, because I married him after knowing him for two years, one of which was while I was a teen and legally brain dead [I actually think teens are legally brain dead, at least all the ones like me who AREN'T inventing things and solving major social problems]. I got into teaching because someone said I was good at with kids, and I never thought much about my own personal goals at any point during college or afterwards. Right now, I'm fairly certain that I would like to explore a career working with books and writing. Maybe teaching at a higher level, or the ultimate goal- LIBRARIAN? But I am going slllloooowwww. Gathering information. Feeling myself out. There's no need to rush.

TAKE CARE

of your butt. I have reached (at a somewhat early date) the point where I am literally exercising for no other reason than to stay alive. Actually, I just want to be able to go on amusement park rides and not have to replace my beloved brown autumn jacket. As much as I want to love myself and my skin and I firmly believe that my worth is not equated to my size, I know that I have a family history of health problems and I want to stick around. I wish I had spent a little more time on fitness FOR THE RIGHT REASONS. It would have been less depressing and easier to stick to. 

I spent lots of time in twenties waiting to become someone else. I pictured her- she was gorgeous, ultimate, ideal, skinny, funny, quirky with no uncomfortable weirdness. She had a perfect wardrobe of boyfriend tshirts, converse sneaks, and bright dresses. She kept a clean house, an organized desk at work, read all the most literary titles, and was never afraid of the obscure horror movies her husband watched. The saddest part of this is that I really thought all I had to do to unlock her was lose weight. I had to remind myself that THIS BITCH WAS NOT REAL. And I wouldn't even like her if she was.  Now I READ WHAT I WANT (fantasy princesses and love triangles?) and WEAR WHAT I WANT (mostly what she would have worn, in plus sizes) and I MOVE WHEN I WANT (so I can stay alive). I want to take good care of myself because I deserve to feel healthy and my family deserves to get me for as long as I can torture them by hanging on. That's what fitness is going to be in my next 30 years.

FOURTH AND MOST IMPORTANT: PLEASE RECOGNIZE THAT YOU KNOW LESS THAN NOTHING. I spent most of my early twenties thinking I knew a lot. I was wrong.

In my next 30 years I'm going to finish my book and maybe the trilogy. I'm going to decide on my next career- or maybe retire from teaching first before starting round 2. I'm going to go on trips with my sisters. I'm going to make taking care of myself a cornerstone of my life. I'm going to cement some family traditions. I'm going to get more tattoos. I'm going to make a million more mistakes. I'm probably not going to stop writing about them.  Any advice for this new decade? I'm all ears!

(image credit)

On diets and health food and feminism and power

This sticker is on the scale in the nurse's office at work,
where I weight in weekly for a weight loss challenge.

 It's coming up on one year since I publicly declared my mission to get healthier, and I wanted to check in and talk about all the icky sticky things: weight loss, dieting, donuts, and the way it all links in with being a feminist and keeping my own sense of worth.  Some of you are already squirming in your seats, and I'm with you.  This is not a simple intersection of ideas.

As a human in a human body, I struggle a lot with weight.  I know that it is harder for my body to lose weight than other humans.  Partially because of my genes, partially because I've literally spent my entire life gaining and losing weight, and as a result, have a really weird relationship with food and exercise. It is straightforward for me to tell people that I love them or complete a degree program or make time for things that are important to me.  It is not straightforward for me to lose weight, no matter how simple the formula.

I've overloaded my brain with information.  I've done Weight Watchers, I've counted calories (my entire adult life, starting around age 15), I've tried high protein and low carb.  I've done the 21-day-fix, made shakes, skipped meals. I've taken kickboxing, tried running, joined Curves, gone to classes, lifted weights.  I've tried to eat no sugar, I've tried to eat no meat. I've had SO MANY fresh starts that I even laugh at myself now when I say "starting on Monday!"  I've joined endless weight loss challenges.  I've made promises to myself. I've lost 20-30 pounds at a time.  I've gained it all back.  I know some of you are shaking your heads. I'm typing out the story of half the population.

So it was a huge relief when I really started identifying myself as a feminist, reading empowering manifestos about defining your own self worth and breaking free from the restraints of a corrupt society.  It's obvious to me that girls and women are judged too heavily (and more than their male counterparts) on their physical appearance.  Watch Kristen Schaal discuss the "dadbods" celebration in this perfect Daily Show piece.  Further evidence?  I was recently in a room of mostly women at a breakfast meeting.  A visiting male commented on our lovely spread of bagels and fruit and followed it up with "You'll have a beautiful weekend to go work off all these calories!"  I was instantly annoyed.  Would he have said that to a room of mostly men?  I highly doubt it.

For awhile, I was getting a kick out of it.  Hollywood starlets saying "eat the damn cupcake!" and we all applaud, and I want to applaud that sentiment!  It sounds good, feels good, tastes good!  I am able to dress my overweight body in adorable clothes, put on red lipstick and feel pretty no matter my size.  I have had people hit on me at every weight (and I've run the gambit in my adult life). I've had days where I felt powerful & lovely and days where I've felt gross & icky regardless of the number on the scale.  I'm past being completely ruled by I weigh.

AND YET. 

I sometimes get winded walking up the stairs.  My blood sugar is MUCH better than it was at this time last year, but it is not completely stable.  When I let healthy habits slip (particularly moving my body and chugging water), I feel like Monster Ashlie and get extremely grumpy/mildly depressed. I have weight loss goals and I really want to reach them and sometimes that makes me feel like I'm living a double life.  Female-solidarity-down-with-diets-don't-let-the-magazine-tell-you-you're-not-beautiful Ashlie who will NOT eat a carrot when what she really wants is a piece of cake, and Jesus-you're-so-close-to-that-first-milestone-so-put-down-the-chips Ashlie, who breaks foods into "good" and "bad" categories as a knee jerk reaction.  Pass the carrots.

This piece about a dieting feminist really resonated with me.  I loved the honesty about how weight loss was about both health and appearance. I thought it was funny that it was peppered with ads for articles about the workout plans of swimsuit models (Thanks Elle.com).  At the end, when the feminist was proud of her weight loss, albeit secretly, I was happy for her.  It made me think a lot.  

I've decided it comes down to choice and language.  If I'm trying to lose weight because I want to be healthy and strong and what I consider to be my best self, I think that still falls into the "girl power" camp I want to be in.  I can honestly say that being on course to lose weight is something that makes me feel good, and when I use the "damn the man, your beauty standards can't keep me from ordering a third double-mocha syrup drink!" excuse, it's usually to justify a decision that I honestly don't think is best for me.*  For the record, I never feel guilty when going out to the dairy bar for ice cream, and I think it's because  it's a conscious choice, because I realize that I will never be on a eating plan that doesn't make room for that.  The knowledge keeps me from overeating ice cream.  Because I'm comfortable that it will always be there.

Language is also HUGE. When I say I'm going to the gym or going for a run and Milo asks why, I tell him it's because I want to be stronger.  I never speak disparagingly about myself in front of my children, students, or friends.  Not to my husband.  Rarely even to myself.  I have trained myself away from being the butt of my own jokes, and I have cut completely mean comments about my looks.  This doesn't mean I pretend I'm not overweight or I ignore the size of my clothes.  I can comfortably admit that I'm planning a tattoo that is large because my upper arm is large and I want to the proportions to be appropriate so it looks right. It should be okay to say "I'm big" the same way I would say "I'm short."  

That's where I am these days.  Trying to love myself at every size, make choices that are thoughtful and goal-oriented, and use loving, supportive language about...everything.  No good foods, no bad foods, no "I'm not allowed to" at lunch time.  I recently went back and reread this love letter I wrote to my body after having Elliott.  Our bodies are RIDICULOUS, doing miracles like creating children and running marathons and holding hands and kissing- WHO INVENTED KISSING- and being the vehicle for these big, beautiful brains that are making up songs and jokes and lullabies and grocery lists and telling little ears where babies come from.  Our bodies.  They come from these awesome bodies.

If you take anything away from this, just be reminded that you do have a choice, and you reflect it in your language.  Doing what's best isn't always fun, but try to find something that clicks for you- a recipe, an activity, a solid comeback for any body-negative comments you might be exposed to- and hang on to it.  And tell me what you think: can diets be empowering? Do you have an awesome comeback for crappy negative comments? Where do you fall in the tricky place of balancing body love and body management?

Please just love yourself.

*These are the choices that are best for me, made after talking to doctors and evaluating what feels good on MY body and for in MY life.  This is not a license to fat shame, to use health as a reason to judge others.  There are healthy people of every size.  Unless you're a doctor, you're not a doctor, so you don't get to tell other people how to eat/dress/exercise/ live.  Ever.

Further reading:

Jes from The Militant Baker is a body advocate and her blog is empowering.

Victoria from The Disaster Poodle wrote about diet culture- on point.

Mara Glatzel wrote about holding the framework and self care as self love.

Image credits: tape sticker by ModernGirlBlitz, Weigh Beauty, Wonder Woman