threadwalker (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
threadwalker) wrote2007-09-10 07:48 am
threadwalker) wrote2007-09-10 07:48 am
My mind is full and my tummy (was) empty...
and when you mind is full and your tummy is empty, it's hard to sleep...
That was a line from the old animated Charlotte's Web.
My mind is full and busy. I pulled an all-nighter last night. That means I haven't been to bed since Saturday night. (tho I may have power napped at my desk this morning between 6:30 and 6:45). I've been at work since 5:30 to capitalize on this awakeness. Too bad I forgot about the 2pm-4pm meeting today! Gah! I won't be able to go home after 8 hrs.
Regardless, I just hiked back from cafeteria w/ a breakfast burrito fully intent to "eat like everyone else and fuel myself for a day with no sleep". I nibbled through it and I think I'm going to puke. Too much grease, too much cheese and too much food. Larry is right; healthy eating is going to kill me because when I don't eat well, my body let's me know it fast, hard and with pain.
The fullness of it all:
The Body Project by Joan Jacobs Brumberg
It's very odd that possession and reading of this book would coincide with my high school 20th reunion since I've been having flashbacks and periodic anxiety all summer. (more about THAT below).
This is not a synopsis or a book review. Although the book is very thought-provoking and I'm glad I'm reading it.
The author writes very convincingly about the issues facing teens and how those issues have altered over the years. I've been drawing parallels between the issues in the book and myself. Apparently even the most popular girls hate themselves and think they are ugly/fat/a loser/undesirable/unpopular, etc. I would say, "Well, that's silly, they weren't. I, however, truly was ugly/fat/a loser, etc". However (1) I know I wasn't fat in high school because I was a distance runner and the gap between my thighs was big enough to put my fist in. So I was never dieting or stressing about my weight since I had an amazing metabolism. And (2) I was a tremendous loner. And (3) it would be hypocritical to say "their self perceptions are wrong and mine are right... why? 'Cuz."
How much of the teenage lost sense of "I don't fit in" is self-inflicted? That's what I've been reflecting on. Probably most of it. Although teens are cruel and if you don't look like the tribe, they might cast you out. The various news bites of school bullies and retaliation by outcasts comes to mind. So it's not all imagined.
And then there's now. "The Body Project" is a reference to how we make our bodies a project/priority. Body Projects include diet, exercise, piercings, tattoos, shaving (legs and/or body), maintaining manicured nails, maintaining styled hair, wearing fashionable clothing ... essentially anything that relates to the body or appearance that requires regular upkeep. I just finished a chapter on how the physical aesthetic changed over the century (corsetted ('00) to leggy and slim ('20s) to busty ('50) to athletic ('90)) and while reading that chapter it struck me that my fitness and health goals are a "body project". It was odd to use the author's lense on myself since she's talking about insecure teens and obviously I'm not... or am I? (LOL). But there is one HUGE difference between my body project and theirs; the teens that she's writing about are trying to fit in and gain acceptance (Or rebel and NOT fit in). The adolescent body projects are about projecting an image/message and the end goal is of such importance that they will go to extreme measures to achieve their ideal. They will also hate themselves and be dissatisfied with their appearance along the way regardless of how unrealistic their goals are. That's not me.
My body project is not about some outward message meant to declare who I am to people. My body project is a reflection of an internal attitude adjustment about how I prioritize my health and wellness. My motivations are based on wellness and not vanity, I'm not aiming for some ideal "size x, weight y" other than to be within my BMI, and I don't hate myself for not being the current faddish ideal for 38 yr old working mothers. Frankly, if I'd been interested in those things, I wouldn't have gotten overweight because I would have been too obsessed. But it is interesting that on the surface the health-fitness outlook I have could be look like the teen-angst body project.
Lemme say, "So fricking glad I'm not a teenager anymore and I wouldn't go back if I could."
High School Reunion a.k.a. "Oops! Did I transport back to my teen years?"
We were at the Foreign Cinema in San Francisco. Which was a lovely place located in a crap-tastic part of town on Mission. The event was $72 and it wasn't clear if it was dinner or what, so I dressed like I was going out for a nice dinner in my snazzy new dress that fits like a glove (a la Marilyn Monroe's white tank dress only NOT white - plum colored silk with water-colored chocolate and ecru flowers splashed across it) and choco-liscious silk covered heals*. I let my husband off the hook, so I was solo. I got street parking a block and a half away and by the time I clip-clopped in my loverly heals to the front door I'd been eyed by too many vagabonds and loittering men for my comfort. I almost left the full-length wool coat home in favor of the sheer shawl and was glad I didn't. However, I was wishing the full length wool coat was a little more discreet than fire-engine red. I felt like a big, fluffy, red target hobbled by 4+ inch heals, so I gave them the look that said "don't fuck with me because I'll put your eye out with my spiked heals as I shriek like a banshee". I scared one woman who, after locking eyes with me, promptly backed into the shop door way she'd just stepped out of. oh yeah... I was dangerous... red means danger, not juicy target... (snort)
And during the walk to the restaurant, I was wondering how I was going to get back to the car past the guantlet of freaks and felons. Walk? cab? convince some old classmate and her burly companion to escort me? sigh. I eventually walked and it wasn't a problem.
About 30 minutes into the actual reunion, I realize, "yup, this is it. As many raw meat canapes as you can eat and a pay-as-you-go-bar." It was a cocktail party and it featured standing... lots of standing around. My poor poor tootsies didn't sign up for this mission. (note - I'm wearing leather thongs today - couldn't be comfier unless it's my running shoes).
*I have a weakness for shoes. I got these silk-covered chocolate brown heals with peak-a-boo cut out for toe and +4-inch heals that forced me all the way up on the balls of my feet. They looked great with my dress and shear cholocate shawl/wrap. Too bad I didn't know I was standing all night. My feet were still throbbing an hour after I got them off...I loves the shoes...prescious...
Reunited, 'cuz it feels so... hmmm
Yeah, I hung out with people that were mean to me in high school. Woe is me, blah angst blah yadda-baggage-yadda. Whatever. You hang with mean people when you have no one else to hang with. But they didn't come.
I was the first one there. Yes, when the beloved husband and kids aren't part of the planning, I'm usually early and not late. Most people don't remember that about me. Anyway, a few others show up, we go in and hang at the bar, so-and-so's husband is getting her a drink so he gets me a mojito... we make small talk.. who are these people? I don't recognize any of them. Oh - look - someone brought a year book! we find ourselves.
Hmm... I have no recall of relating or interacting with these gals. I know we were both there at the same time, but no specific memories are bubbling up. sigh. There were 140 girls in my class and I know the faces and the names in the year book, but I have no recall of interacting with them. They remembered me (eek - you do? was it good? I mentioned I was a loner? and shy? and the parents' marriage was self-immolating? My memories of those years are dominated by angry parents and my social life outside of school. And feeling rejected in school. Hmm... my book d'jour is lurking in the back of my mind...)
Since it was a cocktail party the premise should have been "mingle, mingle, mingle", which is how it started out. It was interesting to see the clicks reform after a couple dozen people got there. Whereas initially it was "hey, I'm so and so, do you remember me?" it shook out into little huddles that didn't break up and mingle for quite some time. Some didn't break-up at all. Maybe there's a sort of maximum headcount for equi-mixing and then when you get enough like-type individuals they form covalent bonds or something and resist reforming or bonding with different types. It was daunting and in some cases I just skipped saying hi - no loss on my part - I didn't know them 20 years ago either.
I worked very hard at NOT slipping into my teen-head space and becoming a wall flower. I walked up to people and said "hi". It helped to know that this was a one-night deal and there woudn't be another chance and, obviously, putting my clumsy foot in my mouth wouldn't actually be a problem because it was a one-night deal. (Is that what one-night stands are like? never did one. Just curious.) Besides, that wall-flower thing didn't work out so well early on during a lull.
What do you call someone who's somewhere between a Wall Flower and a Social Butterfly? Awkward. Yup, that's me!
About 1/2 of the women brought hubbies and the poor things were driven back out of the estrogen mass and positioned themselves in clumps around the room to holding up the walls. A few wiley ones fled to the larger bar area where "the game" was on and less noise. One hubby was escorting his wife and her best friend while the best friend's husband stayed home with all their collective kids. Apparently the husbands were exchanging text messages and the one with the kids was winning "who got the better end of the deal". (snort)
I flipped between "Oh, wow! It's so great to see you!" and quietly drifting towards the walls. The walls were kind of magnetic that way even if they were populated by bored husbands. Frankly, since I'm more comfortable around men and, as far as I'm concerned, the geekier they are the better, I wasn't intimidated. But that wasn't the point of the evening and woe unto the unwary geek girl who does not recognize turbulent waters or recognize "man as property." I forgot who my contemporaries were: raised with money, lived in the hills that were inaccessible to public transportation, and clearly sharkier than me when it comes to men. At first it struck me as odd that the husbands I chatted with (engineers!) got summoned away from me by their wives, my former classmates. One even said, "Oh look, I'm being summoned," after he'd been loittering for most of an hour. I eventually clued in on the 3rd time. I'm gonna take a guess and say my excited "oh boy, you speak engineer" attitude and my ... err... sexy tank dress was not scoring points with the ol' classmates. lol. Do NOT let it look like you are flirting with someone's husband. 'tis a Social faux paus! Even if you are married and flashing the right hardware.
The classmates...
Onwards into the fray... I talked to people and was open about not remembering names. It was fun to see the name tags, which had the year book pictures on them. Most folks looked the same. Some looked quite a bit older and I did a great job of biting my tongue and not commenting inappropriately.
It is interesting to me that everyone was fashionable and slim. I'd swear that they looked like their high school sizes or even fitter. Is that typical? If I hadn't lost weight this last year, I'd have been the exception, not the rule. Weird. But maybe not - they are all from wealthy families and I have a theory about what wealth does to genes, how wealthy men select life mates, and how slim rich mothers raise their daughters.
I made a point of talking to some of the ladies that I'd liked in school and never had the guts to reach out to. Amazingly, they tried to reach out to me back then, but (in their words) said it seemed like I had a wall up. D'oh! I did. Gasp! We like each other. More chatting and mingling. Lots of "I hope we can stay in touch". I wonder if those were empty platitudes? I wonder if I have the energy to exert the effort to find out? Idle thoughts.
Funny things people said:
"Some women never change. The sluts still look like sluts and the snobs look like snobs."
"Go goth white girls! We hardly aged, but look at those girls who were laying out in the sun at lunch! Botox can't fix that!" (I almost snorted my water)
Frequently repeated:
"You were so shy." (to me)
The number of women who said, "I wasn't going to come because I left all this behind and didn't see the point, but so-and-so talked me into it..." amazed me. My exact initial thoughts. See - maybe we aren't so different.
"Do you remember MR B (Chemistry)? Gawd! What an as*hole. Totally unprepared to teach smart, confident young women."
"I met my husband in college."
"My mom made me curl my hair because she said my hair was too thin."
"What? canapes? no dinner! for $72?!"
"I was an angry teen and I think I was taking it out on everyone and everything except the people/situation that was making me angry." (amen sistah!)
"I wouldn't go back. I like who I am today much more."
"I was so unhappy back then. I look at my diary and all I can see is how much I hated myself, felt ugly and was unpopular." (This from everyone from the goth chicks, to the loners to members of the cooler clickes! ... Go Joan Brumberg!!)
Most common carreers (of those in attendance):
Teacher; Stay at home mom; Or teacher turned stay-at-home mom
A few project managers or sales people
I was an anomoly - no other techies.
I am still percolating on that.
And I met another mother (professional project manager) who just bought The Body Project!
On my way out I missed a couple of calls from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
catagon3 and heard her big news when I called back. Which is good because the first thing I was thinking when I missed her call was that something dreadful had happened to her Wootie. Nope, instead she won bardic. And apparently I was featured in her new piece. Wow! I'm sincerely flattered. How's that for leaving my past behind? lol. I can't wait to hear it... or maybe I can. She sang the chorus to me over the phone and I laughed pretty hard. How's that for a juxtaposition of past and present? Driving home from my 20th and on the phone with one of my best buds who has written a song about me and, by default the song is about the post-high school "me".
There's more that my brain is chewing on, but I don't have words for it. Still pondering...
That was a line from the old animated Charlotte's Web.
My mind is full and busy. I pulled an all-nighter last night. That means I haven't been to bed since Saturday night. (tho I may have power napped at my desk this morning between 6:30 and 6:45). I've been at work since 5:30 to capitalize on this awakeness. Too bad I forgot about the 2pm-4pm meeting today! Gah! I won't be able to go home after 8 hrs.
Regardless, I just hiked back from cafeteria w/ a breakfast burrito fully intent to "eat like everyone else and fuel myself for a day with no sleep". I nibbled through it and I think I'm going to puke. Too much grease, too much cheese and too much food. Larry is right; healthy eating is going to kill me because when I don't eat well, my body let's me know it fast, hard and with pain.
The fullness of it all:
The Body Project by Joan Jacobs Brumberg
It's very odd that possession and reading of this book would coincide with my high school 20th reunion since I've been having flashbacks and periodic anxiety all summer. (more about THAT below).
This is not a synopsis or a book review. Although the book is very thought-provoking and I'm glad I'm reading it.
The author writes very convincingly about the issues facing teens and how those issues have altered over the years. I've been drawing parallels between the issues in the book and myself. Apparently even the most popular girls hate themselves and think they are ugly/fat/a loser/undesirable/unpopular, etc. I would say, "Well, that's silly, they weren't. I, however, truly was ugly/fat/a loser, etc". However (1) I know I wasn't fat in high school because I was a distance runner and the gap between my thighs was big enough to put my fist in. So I was never dieting or stressing about my weight since I had an amazing metabolism. And (2) I was a tremendous loner. And (3) it would be hypocritical to say "their self perceptions are wrong and mine are right... why? 'Cuz."
How much of the teenage lost sense of "I don't fit in" is self-inflicted? That's what I've been reflecting on. Probably most of it. Although teens are cruel and if you don't look like the tribe, they might cast you out. The various news bites of school bullies and retaliation by outcasts comes to mind. So it's not all imagined.
And then there's now. "The Body Project" is a reference to how we make our bodies a project/priority. Body Projects include diet, exercise, piercings, tattoos, shaving (legs and/or body), maintaining manicured nails, maintaining styled hair, wearing fashionable clothing ... essentially anything that relates to the body or appearance that requires regular upkeep. I just finished a chapter on how the physical aesthetic changed over the century (corsetted ('00) to leggy and slim ('20s) to busty ('50) to athletic ('90)) and while reading that chapter it struck me that my fitness and health goals are a "body project". It was odd to use the author's lense on myself since she's talking about insecure teens and obviously I'm not... or am I? (LOL). But there is one HUGE difference between my body project and theirs; the teens that she's writing about are trying to fit in and gain acceptance (Or rebel and NOT fit in). The adolescent body projects are about projecting an image/message and the end goal is of such importance that they will go to extreme measures to achieve their ideal. They will also hate themselves and be dissatisfied with their appearance along the way regardless of how unrealistic their goals are. That's not me.
My body project is not about some outward message meant to declare who I am to people. My body project is a reflection of an internal attitude adjustment about how I prioritize my health and wellness. My motivations are based on wellness and not vanity, I'm not aiming for some ideal "size x, weight y" other than to be within my BMI, and I don't hate myself for not being the current faddish ideal for 38 yr old working mothers. Frankly, if I'd been interested in those things, I wouldn't have gotten overweight because I would have been too obsessed. But it is interesting that on the surface the health-fitness outlook I have could be look like the teen-angst body project.
Lemme say, "So fricking glad I'm not a teenager anymore and I wouldn't go back if I could."
High School Reunion a.k.a. "Oops! Did I transport back to my teen years?"
We were at the Foreign Cinema in San Francisco. Which was a lovely place located in a crap-tastic part of town on Mission. The event was $72 and it wasn't clear if it was dinner or what, so I dressed like I was going out for a nice dinner in my snazzy new dress that fits like a glove (a la Marilyn Monroe's white tank dress only NOT white - plum colored silk with water-colored chocolate and ecru flowers splashed across it) and choco-liscious silk covered heals*. I let my husband off the hook, so I was solo. I got street parking a block and a half away and by the time I clip-clopped in my loverly heals to the front door I'd been eyed by too many vagabonds and loittering men for my comfort. I almost left the full-length wool coat home in favor of the sheer shawl and was glad I didn't. However, I was wishing the full length wool coat was a little more discreet than fire-engine red. I felt like a big, fluffy, red target hobbled by 4+ inch heals, so I gave them the look that said "don't fuck with me because I'll put your eye out with my spiked heals as I shriek like a banshee". I scared one woman who, after locking eyes with me, promptly backed into the shop door way she'd just stepped out of. oh yeah... I was dangerous... red means danger, not juicy target... (snort)
And during the walk to the restaurant, I was wondering how I was going to get back to the car past the guantlet of freaks and felons. Walk? cab? convince some old classmate and her burly companion to escort me? sigh. I eventually walked and it wasn't a problem.
About 30 minutes into the actual reunion, I realize, "yup, this is it. As many raw meat canapes as you can eat and a pay-as-you-go-bar." It was a cocktail party and it featured standing... lots of standing around. My poor poor tootsies didn't sign up for this mission. (note - I'm wearing leather thongs today - couldn't be comfier unless it's my running shoes).
*I have a weakness for shoes. I got these silk-covered chocolate brown heals with peak-a-boo cut out for toe and +4-inch heals that forced me all the way up on the balls of my feet. They looked great with my dress and shear cholocate shawl/wrap. Too bad I didn't know I was standing all night. My feet were still throbbing an hour after I got them off...I loves the shoes...prescious...
Reunited, 'cuz it feels so... hmmm
Yeah, I hung out with people that were mean to me in high school. Woe is me, blah angst blah yadda-baggage-yadda. Whatever. You hang with mean people when you have no one else to hang with. But they didn't come.
I was the first one there. Yes, when the beloved husband and kids aren't part of the planning, I'm usually early and not late. Most people don't remember that about me. Anyway, a few others show up, we go in and hang at the bar, so-and-so's husband is getting her a drink so he gets me a mojito... we make small talk.. who are these people? I don't recognize any of them. Oh - look - someone brought a year book! we find ourselves.
Hmm... I have no recall of relating or interacting with these gals. I know we were both there at the same time, but no specific memories are bubbling up. sigh. There were 140 girls in my class and I know the faces and the names in the year book, but I have no recall of interacting with them. They remembered me (eek - you do? was it good? I mentioned I was a loner? and shy? and the parents' marriage was self-immolating? My memories of those years are dominated by angry parents and my social life outside of school. And feeling rejected in school. Hmm... my book d'jour is lurking in the back of my mind...)
Since it was a cocktail party the premise should have been "mingle, mingle, mingle", which is how it started out. It was interesting to see the clicks reform after a couple dozen people got there. Whereas initially it was "hey, I'm so and so, do you remember me?" it shook out into little huddles that didn't break up and mingle for quite some time. Some didn't break-up at all. Maybe there's a sort of maximum headcount for equi-mixing and then when you get enough like-type individuals they form covalent bonds or something and resist reforming or bonding with different types. It was daunting and in some cases I just skipped saying hi - no loss on my part - I didn't know them 20 years ago either.
I worked very hard at NOT slipping into my teen-head space and becoming a wall flower. I walked up to people and said "hi". It helped to know that this was a one-night deal and there woudn't be another chance and, obviously, putting my clumsy foot in my mouth wouldn't actually be a problem because it was a one-night deal. (Is that what one-night stands are like? never did one. Just curious.) Besides, that wall-flower thing didn't work out so well early on during a lull.
What do you call someone who's somewhere between a Wall Flower and a Social Butterfly? Awkward. Yup, that's me!
About 1/2 of the women brought hubbies and the poor things were driven back out of the estrogen mass and positioned themselves in clumps around the room to holding up the walls. A few wiley ones fled to the larger bar area where "the game" was on and less noise. One hubby was escorting his wife and her best friend while the best friend's husband stayed home with all their collective kids. Apparently the husbands were exchanging text messages and the one with the kids was winning "who got the better end of the deal". (snort)
I flipped between "Oh, wow! It's so great to see you!" and quietly drifting towards the walls. The walls were kind of magnetic that way even if they were populated by bored husbands. Frankly, since I'm more comfortable around men and, as far as I'm concerned, the geekier they are the better, I wasn't intimidated. But that wasn't the point of the evening and woe unto the unwary geek girl who does not recognize turbulent waters or recognize "man as property." I forgot who my contemporaries were: raised with money, lived in the hills that were inaccessible to public transportation, and clearly sharkier than me when it comes to men. At first it struck me as odd that the husbands I chatted with (engineers!) got summoned away from me by their wives, my former classmates. One even said, "Oh look, I'm being summoned," after he'd been loittering for most of an hour. I eventually clued in on the 3rd time. I'm gonna take a guess and say my excited "oh boy, you speak engineer" attitude and my ... err... sexy tank dress was not scoring points with the ol' classmates. lol. Do NOT let it look like you are flirting with someone's husband. 'tis a Social faux paus! Even if you are married and flashing the right hardware.
The classmates...
Onwards into the fray... I talked to people and was open about not remembering names. It was fun to see the name tags, which had the year book pictures on them. Most folks looked the same. Some looked quite a bit older and I did a great job of biting my tongue and not commenting inappropriately.
It is interesting to me that everyone was fashionable and slim. I'd swear that they looked like their high school sizes or even fitter. Is that typical? If I hadn't lost weight this last year, I'd have been the exception, not the rule. Weird. But maybe not - they are all from wealthy families and I have a theory about what wealth does to genes, how wealthy men select life mates, and how slim rich mothers raise their daughters.
I made a point of talking to some of the ladies that I'd liked in school and never had the guts to reach out to. Amazingly, they tried to reach out to me back then, but (in their words) said it seemed like I had a wall up. D'oh! I did. Gasp! We like each other. More chatting and mingling. Lots of "I hope we can stay in touch". I wonder if those were empty platitudes? I wonder if I have the energy to exert the effort to find out? Idle thoughts.
Funny things people said:
"Some women never change. The sluts still look like sluts and the snobs look like snobs."
"Go goth white girls! We hardly aged, but look at those girls who were laying out in the sun at lunch! Botox can't fix that!" (I almost snorted my water)
Frequently repeated:
"You were so shy." (to me)
The number of women who said, "I wasn't going to come because I left all this behind and didn't see the point, but so-and-so talked me into it..." amazed me. My exact initial thoughts. See - maybe we aren't so different.
"Do you remember MR B (Chemistry)? Gawd! What an as*hole. Totally unprepared to teach smart, confident young women."
"I met my husband in college."
"My mom made me curl my hair because she said my hair was too thin."
"What? canapes? no dinner! for $72?!"
"I was an angry teen and I think I was taking it out on everyone and everything except the people/situation that was making me angry." (amen sistah!)
"I wouldn't go back. I like who I am today much more."
"I was so unhappy back then. I look at my diary and all I can see is how much I hated myself, felt ugly and was unpopular." (This from everyone from the goth chicks, to the loners to members of the cooler clickes! ... Go Joan Brumberg!!)
Most common carreers (of those in attendance):
Teacher; Stay at home mom; Or teacher turned stay-at-home mom
A few project managers or sales people
I was an anomoly - no other techies.
I am still percolating on that.
And I met another mother (professional project manager) who just bought The Body Project!
On my way out I missed a couple of calls from
catagon3 and heard her big news when I called back. Which is good because the first thing I was thinking when I missed her call was that something dreadful had happened to her Wootie. Nope, instead she won bardic. And apparently I was featured in her new piece. Wow! I'm sincerely flattered. How's that for leaving my past behind? lol. I can't wait to hear it... or maybe I can. She sang the chorus to me over the phone and I laughed pretty hard. How's that for a juxtaposition of past and present? Driving home from my 20th and on the phone with one of my best buds who has written a song about me and, by default the song is about the post-high school "me". There's more that my brain is chewing on, but I don't have words for it. Still pondering...
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And yay for surviving the hs reunion -- we have a much better thing -- we do high school MARCHING BAND reunions that cover a 7 year period. 'Coz honestly, who gets along with the normal people you went to school with? :->