a bit of a katie girl.

i have a confession. i’m a fair weather feminist. i like to pretend that the term third wave actually means that i can interpret feminism however i want to. that i can forgo independence, reproductive choice and egalitarian relationships when a certain mood strikes me. and that certain mood is loneliness. or rather, a fear of loneliness.

you see, i think that despite the best efforts of the women i’m proud to call my heroes–alice paul, eve ensler, gloria steinem, mary wollstonecraft, virginia woolf, adrienne rich and naomi wolf–women are still taught to be afraid of ending up alone. well-meaning aunts and grandmothers point to women who have remained single and then tell you what there flaws are:

she was too focused on her career. she wouldn’t have children. she was too independent. she didn’t know how to play the game. she wore her heart on her sleeve. she never got over a broken heart. she wasn’t feminine enough, boys don’t like that. she was too smart. she didn’t need anybody. she wouldn’t let herself be vulnerable. she has daddy issues. her parents got divorced.

really, the list goes on and on. some of them i’ve heard from my own family. some i’ve heard from guys i’ve dated. “ellen, you don’t need me…you don’t need anyone” or “you are too independent” or “what do you mean you wouldn’t change your last name if we got married” or “do you always have to win” or “you really wouldn’t give up a career to stay home with your children?”

these are the questions that, on occasion, keep me up at night. when i replay arguments in my head with past boyfriends to figure out where i went wrong. at what point did arguments like this start? what would have happened if i’d given the “right answers”? would we still be together? probably not, considering i have been the one to end all of my relationships. but what if i hadn’t told the truth…what if i had convinced myself that i had to be what they wanted me to be and what if i had figured out how to be that girl and be happy, instead of pushing these guys away in a cold panic at the thought of marriage. at the thought of babies. at the thought of being twenty or twenty two and having that much of my life decided.

what if i had never read gail griffin’s “calling” or adrienne rich’s “claiming an education”. what if i’d never taken my women in lit class sophomore year and finally found a voice for the injustice i’d been feeling for so long. would i be married now? would i be happy? would i be the one rewarded with thousands of dollars worth of gifts, a pretty ring, and a fancy gown? not to mention the tacit approval of (practically) everyone in my family? or if i had all of that and convinced myself that i was happy, would all of this have still surfaced at some point–some time in the future when i would have so much to lose by taking the time for self-exploration? by being selfish?

because i am selfish. right now. my life as a twenty three year old woman is all about selfishness. it is about indulging myself and figuring out who i am…and even though i will coo over babies or feel an occasional tug in my heart when i see a handsome man with a toddler on his shoulders…i know in my own heart that i’m not ready for that yet. its taken me two years to get back to a place where i might be able to fall in love with someone again. and where i come from, marriage and babies come after that.

but i’m still up at night sometimes, afraid of being alone. and what is so funny about that is that i am very much alone right now, in the exact way that i am afraid of. i’m not dating anyone. no one at all. in fact, my life in a volunteer corps with six female roommates means that i rarely interact with straight, eligible bachelors. if i could describe my life in one word right now, it would be cloistered.

but i have my friends. and i have my family. and i have my roommates. and they are all amazing. and presumably, will never stop being amazing. so i guess the worst that can happen is that i am “alone” like this for the rest of my life. so why am i so afraid?

i started reflecting on this two days ago when my roommate b. canceled a date with me. there is a new exhibit on afghanistan at the national gallery of art that i really wanted to see and because b. is something of an expert on the middle east, i invited her along so she could explain to me the political context of the art (that and i just like hanging out with her). we were going to meet after my church service was over, but she wasn’t feeling very well and ended up deciding to stay home. to be honest, i almost gave up and went home myself. i was afraid of going to the gallery by myself, i suppose. but then i thought of my mom’s accusation that i’ve had a serious lack of spunk these days, and i decided to go anyway. and you know what?

it wasn’t scary at all.

i had a great time. i loitered in the manet room, spent a full ten minutes looking at both sides of the da vinci, breezed through the dutch masters (because i secretly hate them) and went back twice to view two paintings by martin johnson heade that i recently read a very interesting book about. had i gone to the gallery with anyone else, they would have been seriously annoyed. but i didn’t. i went by myself. and it was lovely. i spent a half an hour picking out a new book in the bookstore, treated myself to a salad and then sat outside in the sculpture garden with my feet in the fountain and read until dinner.

but i wouldn’t have ever gone if b. hadn’t canceled on me. sure, i may have thought about going, but i wouldn’t have actually done it. i would have sat around being afraid of it when the thing itself is not scary. kind of like being alone. so here is my (albeit long winded) vow, to stop being afraid of something so not scary. something i’m already doing. something i’m already successful at. and to trust that, if i keep going at my own pace i’m going to end up precisely where i was meant to be anyhow.

xoxo.
ellie

i wrote yesterday about a conversation i had with my mom where she asked me where my spunk was. and by golly, i think i’ve started to find it.

i ate well yesterday (and by well i mean healthily), i took a walk and put on my ipod. i saw a friend who had been gone for the weekend. i chatted with a few interesting people (some of whom i live with) and when it was all said and done, i sat down to write about it in my journal. what i came up with (subject line: feels like today) was a reflection on the process of self improvement.

i think all too often we focus our energy on (very) boring goals that are supposed to make us better people. when i looked back at my new year’s resolutions for 2008 (in a word document on my computer titled 2008 goals) i found a really short list. “get healthy and lose weight” was all it said. for pages and pages before that i had talked about my angst over the past year. leaving college, moving to d.c., breaking up with two people (ugh)…and all i could come up with for a goal was “get healthy and lose weight”

WHAT!? that was my only goal for 2008!? the year of the rat!? the year i turn 23!? honestly, ellen. get yourself together. something must have changed inside of me over the last six months because i have never, ever read anything so ridiculous. do i need to lose weight? sure. so do a lot of people. and i’m working on it. but what kind of a boring person has that as their only goal. in between today and last december i’ve started looking for work, making new friends, and tested out my newly mended heart by loving the people around me with a new, fierce love. one that i didn’t think i was capable of anymore six short months ago.

oh, and by the way, i’ve lost twenty five pounds too. so there.

as i was writing last night i was also thinking about this scene from the move “the holiday” when kate winslet’s character is out to lunch with an old time movie producer she meets during a trip to l.a. our dear kate has found herself with a seriously broken heart from dating a seriously mean guy (who hasn’t been there). her aged friend tells her: “in the movies we cast two kinds of women. the leading ladies and the best friend. you are leading lady material.” she stares at hom for a minute and contemplates. then exclaims “you’re right. you ought to be the leading lady in your own damn life.” now THAT is pluck (not to mention gumption, mettle, and spunk).

what i wrote last night in my journal (and what i’m coming to realize) is that it took me four years to gain the weight. and although this might seem like a cop-out, there were a lot of outside factors at play. and i realized last night that what it basically boils down to is that i allowed myself to become the “best friend”. a secondary character in this drama called life that for me (over the past two years) has included a shattered heart, losing friendships, growing up, gaining weight, watching other people get married, severe depression, graduating from college, and making some major mistakes (among other things).

i didn’t face these things with gumption, with pluck, with courage…because i couldn’t. because i wasn’t able to stand in myself and say screw the screenplay (which in life, none of us write anyway). i let someone, something take that right away from me. i wasn’t an actor, i was acted upon. the best leading ladies can take any script, no matter how awful, because they are talented. and beautiful. and willful. and you know what? i’m all of those things too.

so i sat down late last night and wrote out twelve new goals the next year. a sort of half birthday for new year’s eve, i suppose. and yes, i’m still trying to lose weight. i’m still working on eating healthy. and i still hope to have met my goals in this department within the next year. but while i’m working on that, i’m also going to do all this stuff too:

1. go on a real date with someone truly interesting.
2. do one thing that really challenges me physically.
3. read every book ever written by one author.
4. start a travel fund for my next adventure abroad.
5. have one day where i feel absolutely beautiful.
6. get a tattoo.
7. write a love letter (even if i don’t send it).
8. take a road trip.
9. memorize a poem.
10. skinny dip.
11. make a new friend.
12. talk to my grandmas about their childhood memories and take the time to write some things down.

and that, mom, is what i call spunk.

xoxo.
ellie

my mom is one of those delightful people who dispenses a lot of advice. and i mean, a lot of advice. she has spent the last twenty three years advising me. and while i wish i could say that i listen to all of her wisdom…i don’t. like most willful, sassy children i tend to let it go in one ear and out the other. until later on when it bites me in the ass and i think…i should have listened to mom.

there are many mom-isms that i’ve only recently come to understand, even though they are all advice that has been offered to me over and over again. these include (but are certainly not limited to):

1. if everyone else says it is a bad decision, it probably is. if everyone else says you are wrong, you probably are.

2. everyone deserves to love and be loved.

3. the people who are worth it fall in love with you because of the journey you are on. not because of the destination.

i often call my mom for advice. i also often call her when i am bored, sick, irritated, happy, excited, nervous, anxious…well, you get the picture. the woman has been subject to my every mood swing and tear since birth and as a result, knows exactly how to deal with me. so when i called her last night, after a weekend of moping where my internal dialogue went something like this–

i’m so bored. why aren’t r. and d. home. i miss my family. i want to move home. i’m sick of washington d.c. i’m never going to get a job. i’m irritated with my housemates. i want to travel. everyone else is getting married. everyone else is having babies. i’m fat. i’m ugly. i’m bored. my life is so uninteresting.

–i was expecting sympathy. no such luck. she was in the middle of finishing her final paper for her multicultural health class (because on top of the full time job of being my mother and managing an entire emergency room…she is getting her master’s degree) and after patiently listening for a few minutes she offered a new kind of advice. in the form of the following, simple question:

where is your spunk?

where is my spunk? what a pointless question. i’m tired, i’m crabby and for heaven’s sake I DON’T KNOW where it is. boy, was i irritated. i hung up the phone irritated. i went to bed irritated and thrashed around for awhile like a two year old. and i woke up this morning still annoyed. then, in an effort to make myself feel better, i went on dictionary.com and looked up the word spunk, because for some reason etymology tends to have a pacifying effect on my moods. here is what i came up with:

Definition #1: pluck, spirit, mettle.
Definition #2: touchwood, tinder or punk.

hmm. i cross referenced (good english major that i am) and came up with the following definitions for pluck:

1. to pull suddenly.
2. courage or resolution in the face of difficulties.

and then (finally beginning to feel a bit better), i cross referenced mettle:

1. courage and fortitude.
2. in the position of being incited to do one’s best

use it in a sentence, please?

the loss of the first round put him on his mettle to win the match.

okay. so maybe mom was right. although i’m anxious to be done with lvc…to move forward with my life…i need to face where i am right now with a bit more excitement. with a bit more spunk. i need to be on my mettle to come out of this year with a sense of achievement. a better sense of self. an unshakable belief that i have grown this year.

and in the name of personal growth, here are the areas of my life i’ve identified as needing to approach with a bit more pluck:

1. my commitment to exercise, eating right and personal health.
2. the eternal, awful search for employment.
3. my community.
4. healing my heart and forgiving myself.
5. enjoying my life in washington d.c.

so, in the name of pluck (and because mom is usually right), here it goes. i have seven weeks left and i am going to enjoy them and keep moving forward. because the truth of the matter is, when it is freezing cold in minneapolis next november, i am going to be pissed at myself if i don’t take advantage of the time i had to be myself, here.

xoxo.
ellie

The Chronicles of a Katie Girl:

Singing and dancing in my underwear

Falling repeatedly in public places
(this is because I am clumsy – not because of intoxication or weather conditions)

Getting my heart broken, walking away…and STILL being an optimist

Trusting in people with my whole heart

Snorting while laughing, which only makes me laugh harder (this is reserved for special occasions)

Being so ridiculous with my friends that we annoy people around us, but refusing to apologize for said behavior

Taking “strides of pride” never “walks of shame”

Not regretting the things I do, regretting the things I don’t

Taking roads trips where you spend more time in the car than in the place you are visiting
(it’s the journey – not the destination)

Carrying my heels more than wearing them

Never shying away from an argument

REFUSING TO SETTLE

Knowing the importance of a good glass (or bottle) of wine

Striving for joy not perfection
(let’s be honest I’m not nor will I ever be perfect)

Wearing my rainbows everyday

Facing my fears

Giving attitude
(when called for)

Looking back and realizing I am at the beginning of my life…

i’d like to thank this week’s contributer for her submission…which i took far too long to post. if the katie girl project had a “manifesta” i think most of these things would be included…and its author is someone i am truly blessed to have as a friend and confidant. i love you. for more information on the katie girl project or to submit an entry, click here

I work out regularly but eat chocolate everyday
I don’t like chivalry but I will let a guy buy me drinks
I like Alanis Morisette and Dolly Parton
I am very passionate but rarely show emotion
I am not scared of large dogs, horses or llamas but I am terrified of rats, mice and long legged bugs
I think professional athletes are grossly overpaid but I watch the Superbowl every year
I am easily bored by romantic comedies but I enjoy cheesy love songs
I have many strong opinions but I probably won’t share them unless you ask
I am often annoyed by the way the media portrays women but I tune into Desperate Housewives every Sunday
I am very sarcastic but will lie to keep from intentionally offending someone
I think Facebook’s News Feed is a ridiculous invasion of privacy but I frequently read it
I love to be with friends but I will only exercise alone
I love to travel but I have trouble reading maps
I am a pro-choice carnivore but I have trouble eating an egg when I think of a baby chick
I take pride in my independence but I am constantly seeking the approval of others
I don’t like to fight but I love to win
I have many layers and wear many masks
I am complex, unpredictable and sometimes hypocritical
I am a Katie Girl

special thanks to the author for this week’s contribution…a true study in paradox! interestingly enough, the word paradox comes from the greek word paradoxon which means “contrary to expectation or opinion” (para=contrary, doxa=opinion). kudos to all the katie girls out there embracing paradox in their own lives by being willing to defy the expectations and opinions of others in favor of being a better version of themselves. as walt whitman once said: “do i contradict myself? then i contradict myself. i am large. i contain multitudes”…maybe he was a katie girl too? (wink).

xoxo.
ellie

p.s. for more information on the katie girl project or to submit an entry, click here!

i need to preface this by saying that i absolutely love my church. and i mean that. i go to a great, progressive, interesting lutheran church in northwest washington d.c. that is filled with all kinds of wonderful, supportive people who have made my time here much less lonely.

i also happen to love liturgy. of the high church variety. incense, pipe organ, chanting the psalms…i can’t get enough of it. i love the structure and the order. i love that when i stand in the chancel with the augustana lutheran church choir and sing “a mighty fortress is our god” my parents and my brother are halfway across the country doing the same thing. i love that if i could look back to a sunday morning seventy years ago, my great grandpa draeger would be preaching a sermon in his little lutheran church in brownton, minnesota. and that if i looked back one hundred years before that, my ancestors would be sitting in a lutheran church somewhere in northern germany singing the same hymn, listening to the same stories, believing in the same god. so when people talk about “finding jesus” i feel a little confused, because in my family…we never lost him. my christian faith is a faith that goes back generations, it is communal, and i stand in my faith knowing that it is not entirely my own. it has been bequeathed to me by generations of faithful men and women. by a church that, although imperfect, still reflects the movement of a living god, here and now. in this place. in these times.

with all that being said, i move to the humorous part of the entry. this weekend at church the smoke alarm went off. right at the beginning of the service. this is largely because augustana has what i like to delicately refer to as “an incense problem”. we love the stuff. seriously. we use it as often as possible. and since we are still celebrating the easter season, we’re rocking it every week. along with “he is risen, he is risen indeed!”

it has recently warmed up in d.c. that lovely point where neither air conditioning nor heat is immediately necessary. so the church (full of stingy lutherans, god bless them), had neither on this past sunday morning. my guess is that this decreased the air flow through the sanctuary and the billowing smoke from the incense burner made its way to the ceiling and hung out there long enough for the smoke alarm to go off. right in the middle of “this is the feast”. but my favorite part about all of this is that nobody moved. no one said anything. sure there were smiles, perhaps even a few giggles (i plead the fifth on this one), but the service went on.

and when we started chanting psalm 68 (may god arise, may his enemies be scattered;may his foes flee before him. as smoke is blown away by the wind, may you blow them away)…no seriously, the service still went on. the ritual continued. as i sat there trying not to laugh i realized that this anecdote could be used in two very distinct ways as a metaphor for faith. either (1) you need to persevere in spite of interruption or (2) an emphasis on ritual can blind people to what is really happening around them. perhaps needless to say, i choose the former rather than the latter.

the thing of it is, god interrupts our lives all the time. in fact, there are times when i feel like my entire path in life has consisted of interruptions. there have been multiple times in my life when i thought things were going on swimmingly, when in fact there was a major detour coming my way. there are those of you out there who might call this fate, or karma, or perhaps even bad luck…but what i’m reflecting on this morning (and have been over the course of this project) is that the most complicated times in my life are often the most interesting. the interruptions in the path i’ve created for myself are where the real divinity in my life seems to sneak in. just like some of the most complicated women i know, the katie girls, are the most beautiful. they radiate the knowledge that life rarely turns out the way you have it planned…but somehow god, or luck, or buddha, or the universe…pulls a fast one on you and you end up in a better place than where you started.

when i was going through a “dark night of faith” a couple years ago, i had the following quote on my mirror from renowned christian author c.s. lewis:

“god whispers in our pleasures, but shouts in our pain. it his megaphone to rouse a deaf world”

what i believe, and what the smoke alarm reminded me of this weekend, is that the painful parts of life are often an awakening to something greater. put another way by john lennon:

“life is what happens to you when you’re busy making other plans”

and finally, from the gurus we all hold so near and dear, the sex and the city gals:

“maybe mistakes are what make our fate… without them what would shape our lives? maybe if we had never veered off course we wouldn’t fall in love, have babies, or be who we are. after all, things change, so do cities, people come into your life and they go. but it’s comforting to know that the ones you love are always in your heart… and if you’re very lucky, a plane ride away.”

more katie girl stories tomorrow, until then happy monday.

xoxo.
ellie

i’ll be the first to admit that i sometimes tend to focus on fashion and urban living in this blog. little do you know that inside of me is an outdoors loving, sigg water bottle toting, birkenstock wearing, rei shopping, bona fide crunchy. and although i do love a good pedicure…i’m actually at my happiest when i’m anywhere near lake superior or the boundary waters canoe area. so for all you katie girls out there who defy the socially constructed definition of what it means to be female…this one’s for you.

oh, and in case you are wondering…i am, in fact, tossing a log. this picture was taken last fourth of july in the boundary waters while i was competing in the caber toss competition at wilderness canoe base. as i remember, i came in third for the ladies. not a bad showing for an amateur!

i am going to tell you a story, but in order to understand the context, i need to first share with you a few key pieces of information:

(1) i am an expatriate minnesotan currently residing in the district of columbia as part of a volunteer corps program
(2) i like to make lists. i have many of them. my lists include “goals for this week” “goals for the next six months” “goals for this year” and a “bucket list” of things i want to do before i die.
(3) on my “bucket list” (besides going to africa and taking at least one clandestine lover) is to ride the tram that goes from underneath the house and senate office buildings to the u.s. capitol.
(4) i am a katie girl.

my story begins sometime last month when a certain d.c. roommate who shall remain nameless signed us up to attend a weekly constituent breakfast with a certain minnesota senator who shall also remain nameless (hint: rhymes with robochar). the breakfast basically consists of doughnuts and coffee in the senator’s office…followed by a few pictures. we were scheduled to go today, so said roommate and i woke up at the crack of dawn to be down to the hart senate office building by 8:30 a.m. for our breakfast with other minnesota constituents. we arrived right on time at the senator’s office, only to see that it was being gutted completely. there were a dozen men (and a few women) in suits waiting to meet the senator outside the office, where a perky intern immediately informed us we would be going over to the capitol building to meet the senator there. with all the men in suits.

now i am never under dressed. i pride myself on never being under dressed. and even though my gut feeling had told me to dress up a bit more…i had opted to wear a khaki skirt and my chaco sandals. i also went by what j. (nameless roommate) was wearing…jeans and a t-shirt. although j. isn’t exactly a style maven, she had gone on the website and seen pictures of the (very casually dressed) constituents who normally participate in this event. we had even giggled as we imagined our white-legged brethren wearing shorts because they were so thrilled about the warm d.c. weather. and maybe even one of those fbi t-shirts. well, let me tell you that there was nary an fbi t-shirt nor a white leg in sight. except for mine.

so the senator’s chief of staff (!) comes to escort us via tram to the u.s. capitol building. insert squeal here. i was actually achieving one of my life goals. something that was on my bucket list. and do you know what i was thinking about? my freaking outfit. and the truth is, i didn’t stop thinking about it for the next hour and a half. and i’m still thinking about it. i’m also thinking about whether a guy would have felt the same way if he had showed up under dressed. would it have mattered nearly as much?

the fact of the matter is, j. and i had an incredible experience this morning. we met a senator. we stood inside the u.s. capitol building. we rode the tram. and i’m still focused on what i was wearing. and how i felt in it. i know they say that clothes make the (wo)man, but what i’m really tired of is how they always seem to unmake me. i am so focused on pants sizes and making sure i carry my kate spade purse label side out that i miss what is really happening around me. a once in a lifetime experience. i am so obsessed with reading about everyone else’s sense of style in fashion magazines, what they weigh, what they eat…that i miss the goodness in my own life. my own style.

the fashion industry makes billions each year exploiting women (and men) by telling them that they have to dress a certain way to be a certain way. that some clothes don’t look good on you unless you weigh 115 pounds. i open up glamour every month and each page becomes a new wish. to be thinner, better dressed, more chic…and while i do believe in the power of a little black dress and kitten heels…what i don’t want, what i’ve never wanted, is for what i wear and how i look to define who i am.

so what i’ve decided is i’m going to have to figure out a way to get back onto that tram. and this time i’m not going to think about what i’m wearing. i’ll be thinking about the sheer awesomeness of democracy (insert audience groan here). or maybe about how surprisingly quickly those bad boys move (and they really do)…or maybe just about the beauty of having an experience you’ve always wanted to have. chacos and all.

xoxo.
ellie

I’m a Katie Girl because of society. Society has created a mold for me that I am simultaneously trying to fight and fit into. Societal pressures are so much a part of me that I can no longer figure out the difference between what I want and what society wants me to want. This makes me complicated.

Who I am in the context of my society allows people to make assumptions about me. For example:

I am female, and therefore must love chocolate and hope to one day have a family.
I am from middle-class white suburbia and must therefore be naïve about issues like racism and poverty.
I am 23 and therefore must enjoy alcohol and going out on the weekends.
I am blond and therefore must be not so smart
I am from Minnesota and therefore must like hot dish and cold weather.
I am from the U.S. and therefore must know how to read and write.
I am a feminist and therefore have to be pro-choice.
I am a math minor and therefore must a nerd.

These are only a few examples, and while some of these stereotypes are true, some are false. Some I embrace, some I fight tooth and nail. Why do I do this? Why am I so afraid to either meet or not meet these expectations? Why do I care about what society says I should or shouldn’t be? I act different around my parents than I do around my friends. My co-workers see me in a different way than my clients do. I am always trying to figure out what people’s expectations are of me first and then deciding whether or not I want to try and meet them. I continually try to decide what I feel and what society has told me to feel. Despite years of searching, I still haven’t figured out who I am and who I want to be. That makes me complicated. That makes me a Katie Girl.

i’d like to offer my formal apology to this week’s katie girl for taking so long to put her entry up on the blog. and for always eating her chocolate chips. thanks for such a thoughtful response. for more information on the katie girl project or to submit an entry, click here.

i think it should go without saying that this woman is a serious katie girl. i met her at an awards ceremony this fall and couldn’t even speak in the presence of such an incredible activist. i tried to tell her all that her work had meant to me as a woman and as a feminist…but ended up only managing to cry and blubber something unintelligible. i would give anything to go to the upcoming v^10 conference, but since money constraints are preventing me from going to new orleans this year, i’ve been reading all i can.

so you can just about imagine my enthusiasm when i came across an entry on blogher.com informing me that maria niles was doing an interview with ms. ensler and would be taking questions from member bloggers. so i submitted a question…and maria asked it during the interview! click here to check it out! while you are at it, be sure and listen to the entire interview.

in case you don’t have time to check the whole thing out, i wanted to be sure and share this with you…a quote from eve that i think embodies the spirit of this project:

i think what it comes down to is this: we have a choice as women to be good or to be great. to me, what it means to be good is that you are polite and you’re well behaved, you don’t say what you feel, you don’t make waves, you don’t get in trouble and you’re not messy and you spend your life obsessing about your body and trying to be skinny…you are so good that you disappear and you don’t exist anymore. or you become great. you make a decision that you are going to be great. and what that means is that you are going to stand up for what you believe and speak your truth and know that there are going to be people who don’t like you and people who love you. and you’re going to be whatever shape, whatever size, whatever color, whatever age you are and you are going to be proud of it and you are going to stand in it. and you are going to end up having a life that is full of mystery and excitement and outrageousness and joy and difficulty. and you are going to be able to withstand being alone, in your own self, by yourself, in the world. and i think you have to make a choice as a woman which life you want…if we really are serious about saving the human species we must take the energy, time and attention you spend fixing your body and direct it toward fixing the world.

i don’t know about you, but i’m putting this up on my bathroom mirror. as i read this i keep thinking about the difference between journeying toward good health and a positive body image and being on a diet. what should our real goal as women be? i know for me it is all too often a number on the scale. a number that represents who i was before i was hurt…before i grew up and before life got so damn complicated. maybe the real purpose of this journey is to redefine strength. to redefine beauty. to create a space for myself where i can feel comfortable…somewhere between a box of thin mints and actually being thin, there has to be a place where girls like me belong. who are never going to be a gym queen and sometimes take a second piece of pie but who also love to hike, do yoga, and swim. who would rather beat the boys on a scrabble board than a soccer pitch. who want to be loved and seen and known as a whole person…not the sum of a few attractive parts.

xoxo.
ellie