On Vulnerability

This is a post I’ve been mulling over for months, but wasn’t sure how to write. I am not comfortable talking about vulnerability or being vulnerable. But I’ve been reading Roxane Gay’s tremendous Hunger and got thinking that she is brave, and she is vulnerable. Being willing to be vulnerable and able to handle the risks that come with it is, I suspect, key to figuring out who you are, under your layers. A lot of us wear a great deal of armor to hide those layers. I further suspect we aren’t always doing ourselves favors hiding in our armor, as hard as it is to shed.

I am a Rock. (I am an Island)

I have often been a rock for others. I chose that position. It’s a good one. It’s good to be the person your friends count on–in college, we’d gather in my room when things felt out of control, and I’d lead the process of bringing us back to where we needed to be. We called it the “sanity club”. These days I tend to bring my “sanity club” approach to things like meetings–in, out, let’s get things done.

Part of why I make a good rock is that I’m ruthlessly rational, methodical, and pragmatic (hi, I’m a quintessential Virgo). The downside is that I don’t deal well with emotion and in my less-generous moments, don’t have a lot of patience for them, either. I realize the irony there, as my attitude gets me into emotional messes. I like to fix other people’s problems, whether they want me to or not. I realized later that this attitude meant that when other people were vulnerable with me, giving me that gift, I shut them down. I was uncomfortable with emotions and people’s pain, so I tried to fix them in order to send own discomfort away.

(Incidentally, I loved Olivia Pope on Scandal in the early seasons–a problem-fixer by trade!–until she got too stupidly emotional over Fitz. Pffft, you’re so much better than that dumbass, Olivia. Get your wine and go home. Rational. Methodical. Fix it and move on. Sheesh.)

Nopenopenopenope

When we moved in order for me to take my job, it was 2008. The market crashed as we arrived in our new destination. My husband–who left his job to come with me–had job prospects that dried up rapidly. We ended up in a really rough place as the terror of watching the fiscal system left us not knowing what would happen next. I wanted to fix it, and the pain that came with it for us. I couldn’t. It was awful.

Years later, in a different rough place, I began seeing a therapist who asked me, in the first fifteen minutes, when I became so co-dependent. It occurred to me, as I worked through all my garbage and googled what the hell co-dependent meant, that I had always been, even when I was a kid. I don’t let other people solve their problems, because in my wacky perspective it’s easier for me to do it so we can all move on. I wasn’t good at letting people sit with their emotions; I didn’t accept them all that well, and I’d try to fix whatever caused negative emotions so I wouldn’t have to deal. You can guess how that usually goes: poorly, for all involved. And at the root of it all was an unwillingness for me to be vulnerable–to accept that I am not always the rock or the fixer–and that I, too, had emotions.

The Time I was Ditched

The real test of this awareness came a year or so later. When I was sorting through with all of this personal stuff–and it took months to get to a place where I felt I had a handle on it–I wasn’t altogether pleasant. I was blue a lot, which is what got me to the therapist in the first place. I was struggling at work (not with my work, per se, but with other elements–I had no patience with anything and my anxiety was through the roof. I stopped going to some meetings because I just couldn’t handle them). I was mopey, though I thought I often masked it pretty well.

At the time I had a couple of very close friends with whom I’d go out regularly, the three of us. And I hadn’t seen much of them and I know I wasn’t entirely great when I did. And eventually, I opened up to them. I told them a lot of this stuff. In those days, I didn’t tell people this stuff.

And shortly after I did, they stopped talking to me. I saw them once more inside several months, and then abruptly, that was it. There had been an ugly moment that led to a break with one of them, but when I tentatively asked her about the whole thing months later, I was told the friendship had been long dying, which was news to me. The other friend never returned my calls or messages, both prior to the moment of break and after. It was brutal, and at the time, I figured I had to have screwed up royally in some capacity I couldn’t even figure.

I cried for months, beating myself up, unable to see what had happened. I hated myself for being weak–they didn’t deserve my tears–and for not being able to see what they did. I believed I must have done something horrible but ultimately not memorable for me in the least. It took a lot of talking with other friends to see otherwise.

But on the Bright Side

Eventually, it occurred to me that the two former friends couldn’t handle my vulnerability. Yeah, I wasn’t a great deal of fun for probably a few months. I know there’s an ethos out there that says people should prune from their lives those who bring them down. I get that, but only in terms of people who are, say, negative for the sake of negativity. I’d opened up, and I’d been honest with them, and I’d been vulnerable in talking about what bothered me and what was going on, and they’d ditched me–they confirmed my hunch that being vulnerable was not my bag. I hid inside myself for a long time after that. I didn’t know adults could be so brutal–it felt like junior high.

But in the long run, I realized that I deserved far better. I realized that my vulnerabilities don’t make me weak or stupid, and that I don’t need to be everyone’s rock all the time. They don’t want or need me to be. I can be honest about what I struggle with and often, that honesty strengthens the relationships I have (though I don’t rush into friendships any more–I am pretty careful about who I let in, but pretty open once I make that call).

I am not always brave. I am not always patient. I am still cruel to myself (I’m a terrible self-talker) but I also realize the nonsense inherent in doing so. I try to let people fix their own stuff, and listen to them rather than taking the helm. I’m trying to soften my edges, and the real perk of all of this is that increasingly I realize that things I tend to worry over aren’t my things to worry over, because it’s not my job to fix all the things.

May you find safe spaces to be vulnerable, and to reveal what shines under your layers. May you not have brutal people shock you into doing so. May you gain insight and compassion through your bravery, and find peace in the process.

Back to work tomorrow. May I remember my own words.

 

 

 

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Man, The Last Two Weeks

I know I haven’t been up to too much in this space in the last two weeks. It’s been exhausting, both at home and at large. Here’s hoping next week is better.

These two are much improved. Sol (gray) has another week of antibiotics and is still sneezy, but much less gross. Trixie (calico) is good to go.

Wardrobe creation continues. Tally is currently 2 cowl neck shirts, three skirts, two pairs of pants. There’s a blouse in need of revision as well. I was hoping to show you some of the pieces today, but it didn’t happen.

I’m going to stay up for Wynonna Earp at 10, and then I’m hitting the hay.

I hope you can find a little peace this weekend, even as we stand strong.

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TF’s No BS History Corner: Everything Old is New Again (and not in a good way)

Last week was a personally rough week. I didn’t post much as I dealt with stuff. I was thinking about a Monday post about that jackass at Google, until that seemed like the second or third most important story of the week–escalating tension with North Korea being another, and Charlottesville a third. So here we are.

What you might not know about me is that I’m a professional historian by trade. I know US history pretty well, and I know its social contours–its constructions of power based on constructions of race and other issues–particularly well. I’m a historian of women–that’s my own work–but I teach the whole kit and kaboodle. And while I’m sorry for some that they found the events of the last week shocking, as someone who teaches US history for a living, well, the most I can say is that I’m horrified while not surprised.

Everything old is new again.

So here’s a history lesson for you. Someone tweeted the other day that the (justifiable) anger using the word “Nazi” this week misses a key point–that we have a long history of our own white supremacy (would that I had any idea who it was so I could share). In fact, the Nazis based some of their laws and social policies on our very own Jim Crow. And our very own Jim Crow is based on what were called “black codes” and “slave codes” from the era prior to the Civil War.

The other piece you should know is that when the South lost the Civil War, Johnson–who took office when Lincoln died–effectively pardoned the Confederacy. Congress was recessed, so he took it upon himself to forgive confederate members, so long, essentially, as they promised not to do it again. When Congress came back, it was furious and overturned Johnson’s measures, but the real damage was already done. Johnson’s laissez faire approach to the south enabled what was known as the “Lost Cause” to emerge–the assertion, after a long, brutal war, that the South’s cause was just. The south’s cause, of course, was maintaining slavery–that was the ‘state’s right” they were concerned about, and the reason they seceded. (Check out Alexander Stephens’s “Cornerstone Speech” ca 1861. He was the VP of the Confederacy.)

This 19th century cartoon depicts white carpetbaggers being hanged by the Democratic KKK (thus the labeled donkey).

In any case, Congress was really forceful about Reconstructing the south both physically and mentally following the war. White northerners (denigrated as “carpetbaggers” by southerners) went south to help establish schools for freedpeople and Republican strongholds (don’t be fooled–the two parties switch sides, and while the GOP was once the party of progressivism and Dems of slavery, that all changed by the Depression and cemented by the Civil Rights Movement) the combination of Lost Cause sentiment, time, and northern racism allowed that force to drift quickly away.* By the mid-1870s, the KKK’s violence had led to Republican departure and the erasure of Black gains (political and otherwise). We get what’s called “Redemption”–the returning of governance to those who ruled prior. And the north was happy to look away.

Tulsa riot
Hand-captioned photo rejoicing in the Tulsa riot of 1921 that left hundreds of Black people dead and thousands homeless, reassuring white supremacists of their power and control.

By the 1890s, veterans held JOINT reunions, agreeing that all had been brave. Left out of that narrative both implicitly and overtly were people of color. It’s not a surprise that Jim Crow became entrenched and lynchings commonplace in that time. And that shit spread beyond the south, unsurprisingly. Race riots–which is the not-entirely-adequate term for when one race (African Americans) were attacked by another (whites)–rampaged across the nation through the early 20th century.

So, here’s my argument: What we’re seeing in Charlottesville is a visible, high-profile manifestation of a problem that’s been bubbling along for centuries. It’s not just a resurgence of Nazism and fascism, though that’s part of it–it’s a manifestation of a deeper, mean part of our own homegrown history. It’s neo-Confederate, neo-Lost Cause (hear the rhetoric of “we won’t be replaced”–it’s akin to the ranting and raving in the 19th century that there could be no equality, only replacement of one supremacy by another).

Another day, we can talk about sex, gender and STEM–that’s what I research, and let me tell you–the shit from that ex-Google employee, embraced by many, is the same rhetoric as in 1910. Maybe History Corner can be a recurring piece.

*Not that white do-gooders were without problems, but that’s a whole other story. On all of this stuff, check out David Blight’s Race and Reunion. (<–Affiliate link!)

 

 

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Finance Friday (Monday): Kitten Adoption

As many of you know, Friday–my usual money post day–was a busy day. I sewed  most of the day while I had time and easy access to my stuff, because Friday afternoon was kitten adoption time! We’ve been planning on adopting new felines to be companions to our resident cat, Jane, since June. She’s been lonely since our other cat, Charlie, unexpectedly passed. When we got back from vacation we went to a local shelter and picked two out. They were on vet hold a bit, but are now quarantined in my sewing room/office.

Adopting from a shelter is a wonderful thing. You support pets that would otherwise be homeless and free up shelter cages for more animals. Sadly, those cages are never emptied. The litter our kittens came from was shipped from South Carolina to our New England state. I’m not sure what the story is there–perhaps it’s the best way to get them into no-kill shelters?

While adopting adult cats is usually fairly inexpensive–they’re much harder for shelters to place–we’d tried that with Jane before and it was a no-go. Kittens, on the other hand, are expensive.

Here’s the breakdown across the last few days
Here’s kitten Sol, who wants to know what’s in the closet.

Adoption fee/each: $175. They’ve had some basic vet provision but need a second distemper shot. I could bring them back to the shelter a half-hour away for free, but one of them pooped in the crate while traveling, which meant both needed to be cleaned when I got home. I don’t think we’ll be doing that trip with them again–they’ll go to our vet.

Food: $95.75. I ordered five flats, 24 cans each, of kitten food from petco. We buy the fancier stuff, I admit–stuff by Blue pet foods. I became turned off of major US brands after they had multiple fatal recalls a few years ago. This food should be more pricey than it already is but I ordered it as a repeat delivery–my first–so I got 20% off. That’s why I ordered so much of it. It’ll keep us in kitten food nearly the rest of the year. I also splurged and got them a fancy climbing tree: https://s7d1.scene7.com/is/image/PETCO/  so that was $45.

So, in purchases made so far (the bulk of which were necessities), we’re looking at $500. Good lord.

Now let’s look ahead to the next week.
Kitten Trixie sees the patriarchy for what it is.

Upcoming vet appointment: Both kittens have colds, which could be feline herpes (it’s a respiratory illness, common in shelters, and viral–goes away on its own) or a bacterial infection. The shelter’s visiting vet wanted both of them on an antibiotic, but didn’t leave any for them. The shelter figured they’d be better at our house than there and that I should call them Saturday about the anti-b. Saturday came and went, they had no word from their vet. Sunday came and went. This morning I figured the heck with this, we’re going to our vet. We have an appointment for both, which they’d need anyway as new pets. This is likely to run around $300 if they need prescriptions, and if they get their vaccine (they may not if they’re too ill, which means we’ll need another appointment). Then they’ll need to be spayed/neutered (one of each)–I can’t remember what that ran a few years ago, but somewhere around $300 is likely as well.

Kitten adoption
Sol wants to know when I’ll actually read these books.

I’ll be honest–we go to a vet we love and trust (they only do cats!) but it’s likely more expensive than others. But our cats are our babies. We’ve lost two under pretty tragic circumstances so I do my damndest to make their lives as healthy and happy as possible.

But clearly, adopting kittens is not for those without the means to do so. In our experience, kittens always have some complications that cost $$. Charlie had feline herpes and went to the vet several times before the herpes went away–it gave him conjunctivitis needed an Rx for his little eyes. They have all kinds of needs, and toys are the least of them. Before you adopt a pet, do some real math and determine what your plan is. They’re too sweet to deal with you having to change your mind later.

Kitten adoption
Trixie thinks I’m delicious.
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Taking the Gloves Off: So You Hate Political Correctness?

There are few phrases I hate more than “political correctness,” but not for the reasons you expect. People love to use that turn of phrase to be derogatory, seeing it as a great burden. But what do people mean when they say, “I have to be politically correct” or “I hate political correctness”? What are they actually referring to?

My Casual Observation

In my experience, people decry political correctness when they feel it keeps them from being, frankly, rude. For the most part, complainers are white people. They’ve enjoyed a lifetime of respect as the normative national culture–the US revolves around white people and their needs, particularly around white men.

“Political correctness” is a phrase that refers to extending that respect beyond whiteness, beyond maleness; it’s not a pain in the ass unless you see extending respect to others as a pain in the ass. It asks you to not be deliberately exclusive of others; it asks you to be more mindful in your language and actions, that both have meaning. While on occasion this way of being may become cumbersome, at its core, “political correctness” simply extends welcome and respect to people who have been marginalized.

Why is that so hard?

Why do people get snide about extending that kindness, that respect? In my exchanges, people have expressed a desire to not think that their words have meaning beyond those they intended. For example, a friend of mine carefully explained to a woman who just didn’t get it that “gay lifestyle” meant that it was an option to be gay, that it was, say, like embracing a beach lifestyle. It never occurred to her that her language had meaning. Most–including this woman, initially–are quick to say that calling them out is political correctness, running amok. No–it’s just people demanding you treat them with respect. Sometimes doing so means you have to listen and consider how other people feel.

Political correctness is not a matter of always being offended, as the “liberal snowflake” trope implies. No–it’s a matter of reminding all of us that words have meanings, and that those meanings are not just dictated by those in power.

But Don’t Take My Word for It

This article does a great job of delineating the ways a rejection of “political correctness” has become a key element of rightwing discourse throughout the global west. This anti-embrace of political correctness has led to the wild misunderstandings of what the phrase means in the interest of self-serving politicking. The author, Dr. Anna Szilagyi, has a really nice point that I’ve seen play out over and over: the rightwing idea that being PC is being censored.

Some people–particularly on the right, which means particularly white and male in the US–see “political correctness” as censorship because it asks them to consider what they say. As a country with freedom of speech, they find that a problem. But those making that argument should undertake a little introspection: if you feel censored when you use inclusive language and are not verbally abusive towards others (I mean that generally–you’re not sexually harassing someone, you’re not using racial epithets, etc), then why is it that you wish to say such things and feel oppressed when you feel you shouldn’t? In short, what is wrong with you that kindness and respect to others feels burdensome? Are you pining for the days of making sexist jokes in the office? What’s that about? You aren’t somehow braver or more authentically you for being derogatory to others.

Someone I follow on Twitter today had a post thanking “you guys” and “you girls, because we have to be politically correct.” Now I suspect he means to be tongue-in-cheek, but it stuck with me, particularly after weeks of arguing with people who kept insisting they were tired of being politically correct but couldn’t articulate what that meant. It made for slow argument. I do know some women who don’t like the term “you guys” as it is male-gendered; personally, I think it’s been in our lexicon long enough that the gendered meaning is nearly meaningless. But when we talk about being politically correct as some smirky bullshit we are forced to tolerate or acknowledge glibly, we deny the power of language. And we deny that language has been used since it’s inception (I suspect–surely for centuries) to marginalize some and push others to the inner circle.

Methinks You Doth Protest Too Much

That white men tend to be the complainers is mind boggling, given their position at the center is pretty well-cemented. Are they fearful that giving others equal respect and kindness means they lose that position? Do they only feel powerful when others are not? Our current president has only gotten where he is because of a deeply entrenched, centuries-old system of white supremacist patriarchy. For someone like our current president to argue that his position is a vindication of anti-political correctness is a way of reminding the rest of us–women, people of color, and poor people (though there’s lots to unpack with class) that our place is at the margins of power, not the center, and that we are not worthy of that basic respect.

So the next time you or someone you know rails against “political correctness,” ask them what they mean. See if they can’t unpack it. Call them out. Maybe it’s just a semantic change we need–a new phrase–so that we might realize all of us deserve respect and kindness.

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Health Care is a Feminist Financial Issue

Well, folks, today is a much better day than I anticipated, as the ACA remains the law of the land, Medicaid remains intact, and I won’t anticipate my premiums skyrocketing more than usual next year. Let’s talk about health care anyway, and then maybe we’ll get a politics-light weekend.

Health care is a feminist financial issue.

The “Health Care Freedom Act” drafted at lunch yesterday but GOP senators and voted on around midnight last night permitted states in most cases to strip away the essential benefits the ACA determined. Many of those benefits apply to women. Free annual gynecology visits and maternity care (I’m not sure of the cost there–still copays? no copays?) and just two examples. The big one, hard fought, was accessible, free birth control. You still needed an insurance plan for these benefits (another issue–access and affordability are still not what they might be, or are in other countries) but still: that the ACA mandated coverage of basic women’s health needs was a tremendous jump forward. One of the reasons Mr Tenacious and I have the plan we have (work-sponsored) was because it became super affordable once, for example, my annual gyn visit was without copay, since it’s the only regular appointment I make.

(pssst–we’ve talked about some of these things before, as the House drafted the AHCA)

When women’s health care is affordable and guaranteed, women are able to do much more in their lives. When we control our own fertility, we can make sound choices about our futures. We can plan our careers; run for office; and create families with children when and if we want them, not just when it happens to happen. While there has been a lot of rhetoric about why the ACA is bad and needs repeal, this point hasn’t been explored so much: that repeal is directly oppressive to women and their advancement. Perhaps that isn’t so much an accident, though I feel like a conspiracy theorist suggesting so.

Historical precedent

During the second world war, the government sprung for day care all over the nation to facilitate women’s work in factories. When the war was over, rather than have a debate over the merits of better sex parity in the workplace and ignoring that many war-working women wanted to stay working, the government shut those free daycare centers down, lickety-split. The consequence was that women stopped working. The lack of women’s health provision (among so many others) in the various repeal-and-replace bills feels similar. While the ACA promises more social, political and work advancement for women when they don’t have to worry about unintended pregnancies and undetected cancers, the r-and-r bills shut those paths down.

A small coincidence that women who left the GOP’s position on health care faced threats from their party (those are three separate examples: two involving violence).

And so.

While you may be healthy and able-bodied now, that doesn’t guarantee you will be forever. In the same way singles like me pay for schools for kids I don’t need (I have cat–she rejects education), we pay into health care so as to cover those of us who need it. If we learned nothing from this week’s health care roller coaster, it’s that we all need more women in the senate and the house. We need good, accessible, affordable health care for them to do so. All we need is the political will for both.

 

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Know When to Walk Away

Know When to Walk Away: Self-Care and Self-PreservationI think you all know me enough at this point to know that I don’t avoid contentious issues and that I like to argue. I am a teacher by trade, so I see it as my mission to educate when I can, regardless of audience and situation. This means I do a fair amount of arguing, for example, about feminism and politics. I use various theories as both example and support. Lately the amount of work I’ve been doing on this front has been mammoth, and I’ve figured out that even for me, there’s a point at which I have to walk away.

A Sucker for Punishment?

Those of you who follow me on twitter have seen glimpses of this process. A good friend invited me to join her in a group founded for cross-political discussion but without namecalling or harassment. I thought this was a great idea, as I’ve been wanting to understand how people who voted for the current president feel now that he’s been in office a bit. I wanted to know why they felt as they do–not just their feelings, which, frankly, I don’t have much patience for, but what those feelings were grounded in. So, if someone said “he’s great!” I wanted a “here’s why–examples 1, 2, 3.” And specifics, too. Not just “he’s good for America” or somesuch. I like sources.

At first it was fun, mostly because I like to argue. I like to marshal my sources and ask questions. But it slid downhill fairly quickly and has ended in a bit of a tire fire when I made the decision to walk away.

The “Red Pill”

After spending an inordinate amount of time in this group daily (friends and I noticed that it was only those of us on the liberal side who tended to be so invested and so attacked), repeated invocations by the group’s founder that we should all watch a “documentary” called “Red Pill” put me pretty close to the edge. The poster insisted it had nothing to do with Men’s Right’s people, that he didn’t know what that was, that we were being intractable by refusing to watch it (we argued it was like a movie about race relations by the Klan–no). We walked him through what the MRA movement is, and we said, yes, there’s some points that make that are valid, only they’re grounded in flaming misogyny (for example, it’s troubling that men have a hard time getting custody because of stereotypes). We shared links about all of this, including a particularly resonant one from Everyday Feminism.

And still, he dug in, got defensive, and would not ground any of what he was saying in evidence.

Yeah, No

The convo devolved further as discussion over feminist theory was then “used” against us (“if feminists hate FGM, they must love Trump’s travel ban!”) (he was serious). And those we were arguing with never used sources to make their case, never did their own googling. The whole thing took so much energy. I don’t mind spending lots of energy on discussion, argument, and education, but not when I’m a) unpaid to do so and b) doing so with people who refuse to seek even remotely the same standards of truth, sourcing, and then criticize what sources others provide, all while refusing to even do their own searching.

So. Mr Tenacious and I took a few days’ vacation on the water and when I came back, I decided to walk away. The nail in the coffin was when someone asked why people had a problem with the president’s commission on “voter fraud.” When I gave him an NYT summary, he said the NYT was unreliable. For one thing, he just wanted a summary of facts and reasons–why would this have been a problem? For another, he refused to google. He also refused to say why the NYT was unreliable. I threw my hands in the air and called it a day. (I have had real issues, incidentally, with the NYT lately. But they’re reliable for reporting.)

I Like Me, so I Stopped

My departure was a form of self-care. If we can’t dialogue because you refuse to, my refusal to engage is asserting my time is better used for other things. Like watching this Christmas rerun of the Price is Right. One person commented on my final thread that, “I don’t debate in here cause a lot seem to just want to show how educated they are or how much research they do or how much better they are because they can use big words and talk in circles.” Well, I’m out of the circle now. I like myself too much to waste my time here.

If you, like me, are in it (the resistance to this administration, education, feminism) for the long haul, you need to know to pick your battles. You’ll need to self-preserve for a good while, so don’t let people bait you. I’m not afraid of other opinions (though one member of this group suggested I’d prefer Soviet-style media control, lol). But I am afraid of losing my mind.

Take care of yourselves! A key to tenacity is moderation.

 

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Finance Friday: Wardrobe Rebuild

It’s Friday again! Today’s episode of Finance Friday is about a situation that folks who have either gained weight, lost weight, or have generally seen their bodies change have to deal with: rebuilding their wardrobe. As I’ve mentioned before, my body has changed a lot in the last couple of years that I’ve been weightlifting. And here I am again–it’s time for a wardrobe rebuild before the fall semester starts.

The situation

Last summer, I bought new pants for the fall term only to have them all barely fit in the spring. Most of the stuff I’d gotten the year before–beloved, seriously expensive stuff from Stitch Fix, for example–I donated when it no longer zipped over my lower half. I bought new shorts this summer as only one pair I had last year remained. My jackets don’t fit as my shoulders have broadened, and my blouses don’t fit over my biceps. Now don’t get me wrong–I love my strength. I love my muscles. But I hate replacing clothes every few months. It’s expensive and irritating. So I have a new plan so that I can replace my wardrobe with enough flexibility that hopefully, I won’t have to do it again anytime soon.

Here’s My Thinking
Diana, Kickass *and* Fashionable

I should tell you that Wonder Woman as Diana, working at the Louvre, inspired my fashion aesthetic here.

The perk of having to have a wardrobe rebuild is that I can use it as a chance to plan, essentially, most of my clothes deliberately. I’m aiming for a modified capsule wardrobe–a moderate amount of clothing, nearly all interchangeable (ie, tops can swap with other tops with all of the bottoms). Outfits can be changed up with accessories: I have lots of scarves, costume jewelry, shoes, and so forth for that.

So far, I’ve replaced my multiple too-small work-suitable jackets with a Prime Day purchase: a nice trench I scored for a fraction of its MSRP at $35. I used my head, looked at the size chart and the comments, and made sure to size appropriately, rather than buying the size I have usually been. It arrived Thursday and it fits my shoulders beautifully and my biceps well. Hopefully it will last a long while. I’ll try not to spill coffee on it too often.

Sew on

I’m a skilled seamstress, which allows me to tailor much of the rest of my new wardrobe. I’m making it primarily out of knits. Thus they’ll stretch if I grow a bit, and I can take them in if I shrink a bit. I’ve made myself two pencil skirts using the remarkably easy and FREE pattern at Patterns for Pirates–one’s a charcoal knit (Ponte de Roma is the fabric type), so easily paired with any top, and the other’s a pink and black gingham, for fun. I lined the front of both with a little Power Mesh, cut to a smaller size and stretched to provide just a little belly smoothing. The charcoal I’d bought last year, so that’s not even on my cost tally this year, and I got the pink gingham and mesh from Purple Seamstress for $25 shipped. The mesh will last me through probably four or five skirts.

Next, I took advantage of a sale at Joann Fabric and Craft to get more of the charcoal and some black Ponte de Roma as well as a McCall’s pattern to make some wide-leg pants. They’ll end up coming in at about $22 a pair. That they’ll be adjustable with their stretchy though formal enough goodness has me hoping they’ll make it through at least a couple of years. (I got a nice Ibotta rebate on this, too–we’ll talk about that another day.)

So, assuming my skinny pants still fit (super stretchy poplin), with these two pants and a few skirts, I should be good with bottoms for a while.

Squeezing into Shirts

In addition to several surviving tops from last year, I picked up two blouses on thredup for a song. They’re classic in styling, one black, one white. They were already inexpensive enough but I found a 40% discount code I could use as a first-time buyer. I got them both for $13. That black blouse and the gingham skirt are going to be smashing together.

I have some shirt fabric in an online cart but I’m not read to pull the trigger yet. They’ll replace the too-small ones I bought on clearance a few years ago that do not fit at all now. Stretchy knit fitted tops are my go-to. I also have some sweater fabric in there to make myself a nice cowl neck.

All of these pieces should be easily swappable for nice, professional outfits. I can wear them to work, to conferences and casually. All told, I shouldn’t spend more than $150 to replace my wardrobe, and replace it well. Here’s hoping, anyway.

**If you want to try thredup, here’s a referral link I’d love for you to use: http://www.thredup.com/r/F3ITO7. You get $10, I get $10! Everybody wins!

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The Battle Against Chub Rub: Part 2

In case you were wondering about my battle against chub rub since we last spoke, I’m here to fill you in. Last we talked, I’d picked up  Monistat anti chafe cream to try after other stuff was a bust. Alas, it is only ok. It’s a little messy to put on (not entirely on-the-go since you need to be able to wash up after applying). It lasts only so long before sweatiness wears it down–maybe a few hours. I’ll pick up some BodyGlide this week and see how that goes.

To recap

Slip Shorts: nope

Deodorant: nope

Monistat cream: enh

Here’s hoping Body Glide is the champ in fighting chub rub!

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Complicated Feelings: Bodies and Guilt

Complicated feelings: bodies and guiltSome time ago I wrote here about weightlifting helping alleviate my focus on the scale and size. Welp. I feel like I have to be honest with you: I don’t always feel that way. Lately I have felt like a tangle of emotions regarding weight, size and the gym. Guilt becomes my overriding feeling. And that is the worst.

Six or so weeks ago I decided I wanted to see my muscles more. I wanted to stop buying pants every six months, too, so I figured stabilizing my size by shedding some body fat is the way to go. I would LOVE to see my muscles more. It’s not that I feel like I should take up less space (usually) or that I’m not entitled to just be me (ok, sometimes that is an issue. We’ll get there). But I work so hard on these muscles I would very much like them to pop a bit more.

Since it’s summer and I’m not on contract I have more gym time. I’m a regular gym goer–I try to lift three days and do some conditioning like the rowing machine 2-3 other days. I love the gym once I’m there, but getting there isn’t always easy. And 5-6 days is serious.

I’m also not rushing so much and thus–theoretically–have good control over what I’m eating. And eating is the issue. At my request, my trainer gave me a calorie and macro target. And, consequent to my tenacious behavior in all things (not always a positive), I’m a religious food tracker. I’m generally on target, tho not always.

Complicated feelings: bodies and guilt
hello, beery, my old friend

He also told me to cut out sunny summer cocktails, cold beers, and the like. I confess, that kind of instruction is hard for me to swallow (ha). I don’t like being told what to do, and I don’t like feeling like I’m setting myself up to fail (cough). And so, we get to guilt.

Did I not make it to the gym? Guilt.

Did I eat more than I should have? Far too many carbs? Guilt.

Did I have a margarita? Guilt.

These feelings alternate with “I’m an adult human. If I want a Saturday margarita, I’m having one” feelings. The “I am not here to deprive myself” feelings. I don’t know about you, but this whole situation becomes for me a vicious circle. And I start having bad feelings about my body, it’s various squishes. I forget about my strength. Then–ready?–I FEEL GUILTY ABOUT FEELING GUILTY BECAUSE I’M A MODERN FEMINIST, DAMMIT, AND KNOW THESE FEELINGS ARE BULLSHIT.

My head spins. Rationally, I know all of this is not worth the emotion they cost, but I’m not great at not-feeling what I’m feeling. Right now, writing at a friend’s house, having completed one project’s page proofs and now drafting this, I’m feeling like a lunch with beer sounds awesome. But later–having missed my Monday lift and had god knows what–I’ll feel less awesome about it.

And I know that this feeling cycle is likely rooted in self-perceptions that I’m not worth flexibility and treats, that I fear not being in control, that I’m somehow letting myself down by not sticking to the program. I tend to set up rigid parameters (“ok, one little splurge a week!”) that set me up for frustration because I’m not about to turn down the occasional request from a friend to go out.

The solution isn’t “well, get a salad for lunch!,” I’d argue, because it’s not getting at the underlying issues which I guess are that I have complex feelings about my worthiness, that when I’m not adhering to my regiment (whatever it is) I feel like a failure. And I know that these feelings aren’t true–I know I am awesome, at least in my head, but my head and my gut don’t always align.

Do you have complex body feelings? How do you (or have you) deal(t) with them?

 

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