For those of you who don't know, I am joining a sorority. Am I a little old and a little poor for a sorority? Well, yes--if you are talking about the college kind. But what I've joined is Mamavation, a health and fitness sorority for moms. My friend Shelley, who blogs over at Slightly Off-Kilter, has been a member for some time and she's recommended it to me. And since I know Shelley would never join anything snobby or exclusive, I decided to give it a go. And my first task is to join the ranks of the other sisters in blogging about fitness, or more specifically, what should be done about the fitness industry to make it more inclusive to everyone.
I've been pondering this question for some time now, and I think I have an answer. Every time I have foregone fitness, it's been for one reason: money. Health and fitness is a billion dollar industry and we are coached to believe that it's not something we can achieve--or even begin--without laying out a bunch of money. We need gym memberships, fitness DVDs, classes, expensive gear, shoes that cost the earth, clothing that breathes just so, and on and on. It has gotten to the point that we feel we cannot run--the simplest of human activity, the very thing that, you know, has kept civilization going for lo these thousands of years, for after all we needed to run fast to avoid being dinner for another creature--without the latest New Balance or Nike shoes, or those weird shoes that have toes.
Not so long ago, a few generations back, in fact, fitness was not even really the kind of industry it is today. I'm guessing here, but I would say that the modern fitness craze probably started back in the 1950s with men like Jack LaLanne and bodybuilding. In the decades before that, not as many people required any kind of special attention to fitness because they worked really hard. Physical labor, like working on farms, or walking around town, and so forth. During the Depression, if you had come up with a fitness regime, it's likely that people would have scoffed and told you to work harder.
So if the concept of fitness as an industry is relatively new, it begs the question--do we really need to spend a lot of money to get fit?
Most of us nowadays have desk jobs, not farm jobs, so we are far more sedentary than our great-grandparents. So we do have to make that extra effort to stay in shape. I know that as a writer I have to be very careful about including pilates as a part of my day, or else it will never happen. But I would also argue that we don't need to spend a lot of money to stay in shape. Secondhand stores are crammed with DVDs, VHS tapes, and all kinds of equipment for physical fitness. Add a decent pair of shoes and you should be fine. So far I have been using a Callanetics DVD from the early 1990s and a pilates DVD on Netflix to get in shape and help ease my back pain.
And maybe we could find ways to stay fit in a more passive manner--walking more than driving, for example, or taking care of physical labor around our homes rather than hiring others to do the jobs for us. What do you think? Do we need to spend a bundle to stay in shape?
Monday, November 28, 2011
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Accen-CHU-ate the Positive
Growing up, my favorite song was Johnny Mercer and the Pied Pipers' "Accentuate the Positive." It was the theme song of my favorite TV show, Homefront (did anyone else besides me watch that show? What an amazing show--better than Mad Men, that's for sure). I loved it so much that I listened to KQUE radio station in Houston--the local elderly radio source for big band music and retirement savings advice--in hopes of hearing it. I even called it in as a request to Cary Richards' Big Band Show and taped it on my boombox. I still have that tape. That's how much I love that song.
But it's been hard to accentuate the positive lately, and that's not like me. Though I never have been one to keep a gratitude journal, I am usually the first to see the good or at least the lesson learned in a situation. This time of year brings that home very sharply. After all, everyone has been posting their thankfulness on Facebook all month long. But the words "gratitude" and "miscarriage" don't exactly go well together, do they?
When I first had my miscarriage a lot of people--my doctor and my sonogram tech among them--pointed out that it was merely a "bad" pregnancy and there was this underlying message that I should be grateful that I didn't carry the baby to term if it was damaged. Now, I get the science underlying this argument, and I'm not trying to be rude, but there are thousands of women out there who have carried less-than-perfect pregnancies to term. Would anyone say to them, "Gee, it's too bad your body didn't know enough not to miscarry that pregnancy"? In fact, I know several mothers of special needs children, and my sister teaches special needs kids in Mississippi--if you were to say this to any of them, you'd be in for a royal beat down. In fact, my sister would likely kick your ass. (Her Monopoly board flipping skills are also truly astonishing.)
So let's retire that dubious but well-meant platitude with all the others that people say when they are faced with a bad situation and want to say something helpful. All mothers love their babies, "perfect" or not.
But I will admit that my life has changed a lot since having the miscarriage, and I am grateful for most of the changes it has wrought. I'll just make a list of the top five:
1. I'm not as scared of everything as I used to be. I would always worry about the worst case scenario in every situation and then act in a way to prevent the worst from happening. Now, I don't care. I've seen the worst, and it is bad. But you can and will survive, so go on.
2. I've cleaned out a lot of stuff I was hanging on to. Baby clothes, maternity clothes, and junk we packed up while we were in NC. We've given away about half of what we own and it felt FANTASTIC. When I dropped off those clothes at Goodwill, I felt 80 pounds lighter.
3. I finished my book. I kept telling myself that I would write the book while working at Eye-Vee but it never happened. I was too exhausted and stretched too thin. So even though I was on a deadline, I still put the office job first. As soon as I got fired, I started writing 8 hours a day every day. And I still finished on deadline, even with everything that happened.
4. I spend more time with my family. When I was working outside the home, I saw Olivia for about an hour every day. Sure, it was a temporary change but one that was secretly wreaking havoc on my family. Olivia began having nightmares. Zach and I were sleep deprived. The house was in chaos. Life is slower, simpler, and better when I write from home rather than try to have an outside job.
5. We've started doing projects on the house that we delayed for years. For example, I painted my kitchen. We had this ugly-ass 1980s splatter paint wallpaper in mauve and sea green that just made me sick to look at. My friend Sidney said of it, "Oh, it looks like a 1980s doctors' office in Miami." Oh. Yeah. Mind you, we have owned this house for 5 years. The other day I just started painting over the wallpaper. Before I would have been all concerned with doing it Correctly and By the Book but with every slap of that roller, I felt happier. And the kitchen isn't perfect, but it's a damn sight better than it was.
We've also learned as a family to make do with less--and yet we feel richer. It's an empowering feeling.
So while I could never say I was grateful for the miscarriage, I will accentuate the positives that have come about lately in our lives. Happy Thanksgiving.
But it's been hard to accentuate the positive lately, and that's not like me. Though I never have been one to keep a gratitude journal, I am usually the first to see the good or at least the lesson learned in a situation. This time of year brings that home very sharply. After all, everyone has been posting their thankfulness on Facebook all month long. But the words "gratitude" and "miscarriage" don't exactly go well together, do they?
When I first had my miscarriage a lot of people--my doctor and my sonogram tech among them--pointed out that it was merely a "bad" pregnancy and there was this underlying message that I should be grateful that I didn't carry the baby to term if it was damaged. Now, I get the science underlying this argument, and I'm not trying to be rude, but there are thousands of women out there who have carried less-than-perfect pregnancies to term. Would anyone say to them, "Gee, it's too bad your body didn't know enough not to miscarry that pregnancy"? In fact, I know several mothers of special needs children, and my sister teaches special needs kids in Mississippi--if you were to say this to any of them, you'd be in for a royal beat down. In fact, my sister would likely kick your ass. (Her Monopoly board flipping skills are also truly astonishing.)
So let's retire that dubious but well-meant platitude with all the others that people say when they are faced with a bad situation and want to say something helpful. All mothers love their babies, "perfect" or not.
But I will admit that my life has changed a lot since having the miscarriage, and I am grateful for most of the changes it has wrought. I'll just make a list of the top five:
1. I'm not as scared of everything as I used to be. I would always worry about the worst case scenario in every situation and then act in a way to prevent the worst from happening. Now, I don't care. I've seen the worst, and it is bad. But you can and will survive, so go on.
2. I've cleaned out a lot of stuff I was hanging on to. Baby clothes, maternity clothes, and junk we packed up while we were in NC. We've given away about half of what we own and it felt FANTASTIC. When I dropped off those clothes at Goodwill, I felt 80 pounds lighter.
3. I finished my book. I kept telling myself that I would write the book while working at Eye-Vee but it never happened. I was too exhausted and stretched too thin. So even though I was on a deadline, I still put the office job first. As soon as I got fired, I started writing 8 hours a day every day. And I still finished on deadline, even with everything that happened.
4. I spend more time with my family. When I was working outside the home, I saw Olivia for about an hour every day. Sure, it was a temporary change but one that was secretly wreaking havoc on my family. Olivia began having nightmares. Zach and I were sleep deprived. The house was in chaos. Life is slower, simpler, and better when I write from home rather than try to have an outside job.
5. We've started doing projects on the house that we delayed for years. For example, I painted my kitchen. We had this ugly-ass 1980s splatter paint wallpaper in mauve and sea green that just made me sick to look at. My friend Sidney said of it, "Oh, it looks like a 1980s doctors' office in Miami." Oh. Yeah. Mind you, we have owned this house for 5 years. The other day I just started painting over the wallpaper. Before I would have been all concerned with doing it Correctly and By the Book but with every slap of that roller, I felt happier. And the kitchen isn't perfect, but it's a damn sight better than it was.
We've also learned as a family to make do with less--and yet we feel richer. It's an empowering feeling.
So while I could never say I was grateful for the miscarriage, I will accentuate the positives that have come about lately in our lives. Happy Thanksgiving.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Suck It Up, Bitch
I took a hiatus from writing this blog, because I finally had a D&C about 2 weeks ago. My miscarriage was not ending, and I had developed an infection, and my OB/GYN said "Enough already!" So even though it was somewhat anticlimactic to go in for a D&C after already enduring the pain of the miscarriage, I did so. And after I finished, I didn't want to think about the miscarriage, or write about it, for a while. For 6 weeks, my entire life had revolved around the miscarriage and I just wanted to take a break from it. But now I am back, and I have something I need to tell you.
This is true whether you've had a miscarriage already, or are going though one now.
There are a lot of people out there who aren't going to care that you lost your child.
Now, I realize that in saying this, I run the risk of sounding bitter or cruel or mean. But it is going to happen, and it's better that you hear it from me. I'm not pointing any fingers, or trying to call people out. I'm just saying, some people really could care less. This is not like Joan at Eye-Vee, who used my miscarriage as an excuse to get me fired. This is more like my co-workers at Eye-Vee, the nice ones I lunched with and thought I was work-friendly with, who sat around their cubicles one evening telling all the pregnancy jokes they could think of. While I was sitting there actually going through the process of my miscarriage. Dragging myself to work and sitting there on a super absorbent maxipad and trying to put one foot in front of the other.
You see? Some people are just completely and utterly self-absorbed, to the point of being absentmindedly cruel.
It's kind of like that story Janet Gaynor told about one of her co-stars--I think it was Henry Fonda. As they watched the rushes of one of their films together, she asked him for his opinion on how well she performed in a scene. "Honestly, Janet, I can't tell you," he replied. "I was too busy watching myself."
So many people are so busy watching themselves that they don't care. The cameras never shut off, the crew never goes home, they continue role playing even after the rest of us have gone home and put ourselves to bed.
So if the pregnancy jokes seemed in bad taste to me, I must admit to myself that my coworkers weren't bad people, just completely forgetful of the fact that they were joking about the very thing I was losing at that moment. Motherhood. Pregnancy. It was literally draining away from me as they cracked joke after joke.
There are people out there who feel you should get over it already. Period.
This was recently brought home to me by someone I was working with on a side project. It's my project, and I brought her in because she is highly knowledgable and energetic. The day of my D&C, she sent me emails trying to urge me to get back to work. I asked her to give me the weekend. When the weekend was over, I got more emails about getting back to work. And while I appreciated her hustle, I was also drained of all energy and badly in need of more than a weekend to recover.
A week later, we had a disagreement about the project and she blew up at me. Threatened to go home and take her toys with her. Told me I was sending red flags her way. All the while, I was telling myself that this was my project and I could take as long as I damn well pleased to finish it, especially a week after a D&C, and as the creator of the project, I also had the right to disagree with her professionally, without having a shouting match.
It took several emails and she finally cooled down. But you know what? Throughout our "discussion," I had to be the calm one. I had to be the voice of reason. If ever I had an oppotunity--nay, the divine right--to throw a temper tantrum, I think it was at that moment. And yet, I had to be the grown up. And why? Because some people are so wrapped up in their own worlds that they cannot halt the drama long enough to extend a helpful or loving hand.
So I am telling you this from cold, hard experience. It's not pretty and it's not right, but it is true. Some people don't care what you've just been through. It might not even register on their radars. So how you deal with this is up to you. In the interest of fairness, I have to say that many people--in fact most--have been kind and thoughtful and helpful. Which makes the few who aren't really stand out.
This is true whether you've had a miscarriage already, or are going though one now.
There are a lot of people out there who aren't going to care that you lost your child.
Now, I realize that in saying this, I run the risk of sounding bitter or cruel or mean. But it is going to happen, and it's better that you hear it from me. I'm not pointing any fingers, or trying to call people out. I'm just saying, some people really could care less. This is not like Joan at Eye-Vee, who used my miscarriage as an excuse to get me fired. This is more like my co-workers at Eye-Vee, the nice ones I lunched with and thought I was work-friendly with, who sat around their cubicles one evening telling all the pregnancy jokes they could think of. While I was sitting there actually going through the process of my miscarriage. Dragging myself to work and sitting there on a super absorbent maxipad and trying to put one foot in front of the other.
You see? Some people are just completely and utterly self-absorbed, to the point of being absentmindedly cruel.
It's kind of like that story Janet Gaynor told about one of her co-stars--I think it was Henry Fonda. As they watched the rushes of one of their films together, she asked him for his opinion on how well she performed in a scene. "Honestly, Janet, I can't tell you," he replied. "I was too busy watching myself."
So many people are so busy watching themselves that they don't care. The cameras never shut off, the crew never goes home, they continue role playing even after the rest of us have gone home and put ourselves to bed.
So if the pregnancy jokes seemed in bad taste to me, I must admit to myself that my coworkers weren't bad people, just completely forgetful of the fact that they were joking about the very thing I was losing at that moment. Motherhood. Pregnancy. It was literally draining away from me as they cracked joke after joke.
There are people out there who feel you should get over it already. Period.
This was recently brought home to me by someone I was working with on a side project. It's my project, and I brought her in because she is highly knowledgable and energetic. The day of my D&C, she sent me emails trying to urge me to get back to work. I asked her to give me the weekend. When the weekend was over, I got more emails about getting back to work. And while I appreciated her hustle, I was also drained of all energy and badly in need of more than a weekend to recover.
A week later, we had a disagreement about the project and she blew up at me. Threatened to go home and take her toys with her. Told me I was sending red flags her way. All the while, I was telling myself that this was my project and I could take as long as I damn well pleased to finish it, especially a week after a D&C, and as the creator of the project, I also had the right to disagree with her professionally, without having a shouting match.
It took several emails and she finally cooled down. But you know what? Throughout our "discussion," I had to be the calm one. I had to be the voice of reason. If ever I had an oppotunity--nay, the divine right--to throw a temper tantrum, I think it was at that moment. And yet, I had to be the grown up. And why? Because some people are so wrapped up in their own worlds that they cannot halt the drama long enough to extend a helpful or loving hand.
So I am telling you this from cold, hard experience. It's not pretty and it's not right, but it is true. Some people don't care what you've just been through. It might not even register on their radars. So how you deal with this is up to you. In the interest of fairness, I have to say that many people--in fact most--have been kind and thoughtful and helpful. Which makes the few who aren't really stand out.
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