Jillibee'sness

When one door closes, a mother goes to the beach

Well, it looks like we won't be able to stay in our home and facing another move is overwhelming me.  We have been renting and trying to purchase this house via short sale and after a year of heartache, headache and hoops, some bozo lender negotiator got greedy and said "no" to an offer comparable with what the even nicer houses in the neighborhood are selling for.  It has been such a roller coaster ride that to have it end at a red tape brick wall is just really tough.  It is not officially over yet, but I hear the fat lady warming up.

I have not been handling the news well.  As far as those who are displaced go, we are the lucky ones.  This is not a foreclosure.  This is not a fire.  This is not hurricane Katrina.  This is just not getting what I want.  Somehow, the knowledge that I am being a big baby does not comfort me.  I still want what I want for my family and this made so much good sense!!

Through it all, my friends have helped me to see the bigger picture.  I recently likened this to being swept out to sea with all my friends on the shore hollering in, "it is shallow water, just stand up!" or "It's a rip tide, just relax and go with it!" or "It IS a great white shark but he thinks you are a seal and once he tears off your leg he will swim away!"   The bottom line is - they can see what I can not see in this sea.

Recently I heard a horrible story about someone my husband knew from work.  A mother and her young daughter were wading in shin deep water, got caught in a rip tide and swept out to sea.  Both were drowned.  This was devastating news of course, and upon hearing it, I vowed never to go to the ocean with my kids again.  I am from the Midwest, where people are sensible enough not to have an ocean.  My husband from NJ however, said, "you just have to know what to do in a riptide.  You relax and let it take you and spit you back out". (Again, why am I not comforted by this notion?)

However, I think that is precisely the voice of sanity in this news I have received about our house.  Let it take me and spit me back out!  The notion of spitting back out brings up another story of the sea.  I try to see the whales every year around mother's day when they are migrating north.  A couple of years ago we were lucky enough to find a pod of killer whales - a menacing, beautiful, street gang of the sea.  They were chasing this poor fat bird.  This pitiful creature whose name escapes me, seemed to be a cross between a duck and a pigeon and was half flying half running to get away from them.   I was watching this with the scientist on board and of course expressing my horror at the limitations of this poor flightless victim.  The guide said, "She could fly away if she would spit out her food".  Apparently, these guys gorge on the same fish that may attract the orcas.  They get so fat they can not fly, but by regurgitating they are once again airborne. BOY OH BOY CAN I RELATE! (On so many levels, but bulimia is not where I am going with this analogy or in my life).  I have to spit out my vision of this house, and my plan for the next 5 years, our neighbors, the home school community and worst of all my DREAD of moving again!  I need to just let the rip tide take me and spit me out where  I am meant to be. I need to be willing to spit out our stuff if we end up in a smaller house. I have to let go. Right now, I am spitting mad.  I need to  just stop at spitting.

I am standing at the closed door unwilling or unable to find the window of opportunity to scramble out of.  However, I am keeping my ear to the ground and my mind on the sea and my hands folded with the folded hands of those whom I have placed my soul's care.  Though I can not see the shore, the prayers and support of my friends has been a real life saver. I know I am buoyed by God and I firmly believe I am in good hands.  I just need to let go and let the waves take me where they will.

What is playing on the other channel today

I know it is un-American of me not to blog about Michael Jackson today on the day of his passing.  I could at least be a marginal-American by blogging about the passing of Farah Fawcett, or even an older American by blogging about Ed McMahon.  They were all important to me growing up and it is sad that they are gone and unfortunate that the passing of Michael obscures the contribution of the other two. This reminds me of when the death of Jim Henson was eclipsed by the passing of Sammy Davis Jr!  (Note to self: Die on my own special day).  I have plenty of thoughts on the matter, the chief thought being one of intrigue.  As I posted on my facebook update:

"Apparently death covers over a multitude of sin. I can't wait till I die and get to hear how great I was! I wonder if MJ would have felt less pressure if he could have heard these great things recently - BEFORE he died! We love to topple the ones at the top! (Of course if he WAS guilty of crimes against children, I don't care how talented he was. No disrespect for the dead intended). RIP"

But I am NOT going to talk about such things today.  I can catch the virus of sympathy and empathize with the families, but truth be told, as intimate as I was with the Farah poster and how she looked when she was cold in a red one piece bathing suit ( NO, I was not "intimate" in the way my boyfriends at the time were, but I did study and copy her hair style) - I still had to look up the spelling of her last name. These were important people to my generation, and their art became part of what highlighted the important events in our lives, but we did not really "know" them.  The grief seems, well, make believe.  Sorry.  It just does. (Perhaps that is more of a personal admission of shallow sentimentality than a global one).

So I am not going to treat this day as the day time stood still!  Great artists died, but I had a great day as an artist (though admittedly I am stretching the bounds of that word)! I don't want to focus on the sucky day the families and fans of these other artists are having. I just came back from the murky land of second hand suck and I refuse to be sucked down again.  I spent a day or two in suckville and I just don't like it.  The postcards from there suck, the t-shirt sucks, the weather there sucks. It is just not a good place to re-visit too often (though as an occasional change of pace from Shallow Town, I would still reccommend stopping by from time to time).

Today was a good day in a sling of several good (though exhausting) days.  I am performing in goofy skits for day camp. I love the freedom to be OVER THE TOP and the laughter of 250 children is intoxicating!  They are all so ready to board the silly bus to Ridiculousville and go with me wherever I want to take us!  (Usually with scenic stops in Pratfalls and Pieface mountain, with little potty humor breaks along the way).  I don't take the responsibility to make them laugh, lightly.  I am enormously honored by their trust, and their willingness to join me in whatever story or moral I am spinning. And they return the favor by sharing their take on the tale when I encounter them off stage later.  In fact, they feel obligated to tell me the subtle plot points that I missed as a participant: "THAT GUY IS NOT REALLY A PARK RANGER!"  "I was sad when you were sick yesterday!"  (Even though my nose honking and sneezing got the biggest laugh of the day).  And my personal favorite came in a conversation about forgiveness (yesterday's theme).

7 or 8 year old to my character:  I felt bad when that Park Ranger ruined your film yesterday!
Me: Oh, I did too.  But I forgave him! I try not to hold a grudge
7 or 8 year old: I had to forgive like 8 people yesterday!
Me: Wow, that is a lot!  Did you hold 8 grudges today or were you able to forgive and forget?
7 or 8 year old: Oh, I don't have to forgive anybody today.  That was yesterday's lesson!

To re-iterate the point of my last blog, even the worst news days always have something "unsucky" tucked away in them!  I have chosen to see that unsucky thing by changing my focus (just as my un-hip husband changed the channel from E!News to something with Alan Greenspan on it...although if you ask me, that was just out of the suckpan and into the suckfire).  Michael Jackson may have once been the greatest 8 year old to ever appear on stage, but today I got to be the "greatest" to an 8 year old, BY appearing on stage.  For me and mine, I get to be alive today doing that and that is good news!  I hope that will keep me from boarding the bus back to Sucktown anytime soon! And I hope by remembering to take lots of snapshots of the beautiful scenery on the way back from Suckville, I won't consider the trip a total waste of this apparently limited time we all have on this crazy, wonderful earth!

Vacuum

I have a lot of stupid things weighing me down at the moment. When they first started coming at me I was laughing at them and batting them aside, but the weight of "one too many" got me down and today I  am heavy hearted (and not too pleased with myself for caving).  I can imagine nothing more interesting than reading someone's blog detailing all the things not  going right. (I clearly need to find new interests).  But I will spare you the details.  I don't want to bore you or myself by telling you what sucks circumstantially in the categories of health, home, job, and communication (usually that is the one category that doesn't suck!)  Suck begets suck, so I don't want to write a sucky blog entry, but sometimes the way out of the suck is to give in to the sucking force and arrive at a better place on the other side.

My life sucks a little.  But I spoke to someone this week who had one of life's BIG categories happen to her.  You know the list: death, major illness, major heart ache, and anything horrendous that happens to our children.  In this case it was unthinkable cruelty - abuse and theft of the innocence of a  handicapped child.  That is about as bad as it gets for a mom.  I heard myself write: "I am so sorry this world sucks!  At least it doesn't suck in a vacuum!"  Finally!  Something I feel good writing about tonight.

In this case, the mom is fighting back. She is fighting in the courts, in proactive steps toward understanding, healing, and loving her child; and in giving herself fully to the cause of helping victims of rape.  This is a warrior mom. This is the way to keep sucking from happening in a vacuum.

I am so glad, if God chose to let us live in a world with jagged edges, loose parts, creepy crawly bugs and bogey men; he also left enough of the original paradise in tact to make it bearable.  You know your list, but some of the evidence I have found that paradise is alive and well is: puppies, laughter, music, and big shoes (to squash the creepy crawly bugs).  Life does not suck in a vacuum.  If it did, it would be unbearable.  For me, the tough stuff is offset by the continual funny and loving antics of my children, the patience of my husband, the laughter and support of my friends, and the unwavering belief that God has it all figured out and is trustworthy while these things unfold. I have hope and faith, that grows from the memory of a million times before in my 40 plus years of living, when I faced uncertainty and insurmountable odds; only to arrive at a better place, as a better person than I would have been, had I not navigated through the rocky terrain.  And for me, getting to document my findings and share them, as souvenirs from my trip to the land of suck, is another way that this sucking is not happening in a vacuum. So life is already sucking so much less than when I started writing this entry, which I  really hope doesn't suck.

Happy stance

Because of the indoctrination of Facebook I feel more comfortable fitting everything I have to say in a little box, feel less inclined to say a lot, and don't feel so bad about having limited time to say something...or nothing as the case may be.  I fear there are few or fewer people reading this blog these days, because I have been remiss about writing.  However, Facebook has taught me that it is just fine to write important or trivial things that no one will read.  If a tree falls in a forest and no one reads it, you have not been wasting paper anyway so it does not matter and it is not your fault the tree fell so who cares?

I hate to admit this out loud, cause that is usually when a tree falls on you, but I am happy.  Really happy.  Not circumstantially happy.  Just plain old ordinary day happy.  I can list the temporal things that seem to have contributed to this happiness - peppy Gershwin tunes on the ipod my son gave me, exercise, happy healthy loved ones and lots of fun with Facebook friends.  But I can just as easily list the things that should make me feel not happy - same old stubborn back and body, STILL no closure on buying this house after a year of waiting, and well, everything on the news or Oprah.  Although I can usually empathize myself out of any happy state I am in, I think I am becoming better able to offer an umbrella to others while not standing in their rain storm.  Or something...I am too happy to dwell on.

Perhaps I am recognizing the gift of happiness and the fleeting nature of appreciation. Happy is probably not as deep or sophisticated or profound to write about. In fact, there is probably not as much being written about happiness because when you are happy you don't feel like sitting alone with your thoughts and your words.  Life is fun when you are happy and even though I love to write, I really love to life.  So I guess I will go back to having a life and check back the next time I feel I have something to say (Happy people give themselves those kind of loose deadlines, I find).   Since I don't have anything more to say about anything,  I guess happiness is just going to have to be enough.

I'm hind-sighted

My children are becoming teenagers.  My teenager has become an adult.  I have become a middle aged woman.  I have some time on my hands.  I have this blog.  I really should have something profound to say at a time like this.  I'm a little out of the habit.  Everything I used to have to say has been eeking out of me one little box at a time on Facebook. It’s amazing how quickly something I never heard of has become a continual daily habit.  Most of the changes that have come with keeping in touch with so many friends old and new have been positive. But I have seen this before.  Therein lays the nugget of truth I want to mine out.

 I just had a birthday. Upon reflection I have discovered that often I did not realize the difference between wisdom and trend; popular opinion and a refreshing wind of change.  It may be too late to save myself from feathered bangs, self help books and low fat foods, but maybe I can save my kids. 

 Once upon a time we only bought water bottles full of distilled water for our iron.  Now they are an integral part of my life I have to give up to save the planet.  Oh, and the importance of drinking that much water to dilute toxins in the body is disputed while it is proven that the plastic baking in the sun releases toxins that are deadly. 

Remember way back before the stock market and the economy became real and sinister, when we were all trying really hard to look sensible and self respecting by buying cool clothes and things?  I tried really hard to fall in line or fake it on that one, though I never quite got the hang of it.  Now I have to give it up. It is just bad taste. I love how everything good is bad and vice-versa.  I can’t wait till weight is en vogue (and in Vogue).

 I have taught my kids to distrust the newest latest greatest, while ignoring that advice myself.  This way, if they do what I say and not what I do and it turns out poorly, I can say, “well, I did not mean for you to take it to that extreme, look how I do things!”  If they follow my example and ignore my advice and it goes badly I can say, “Well, I TRIED to warn you!”

This is my new strategy in life. I have given up strategy in favor of justification.  Hindsight is 20/20 for a reason.  I have always said, “I can live my life any way I choose to remember it”.  Feathered bangs - framed my face.  Water bottle landfill, toxic plastic usage was important to bring about the necessary changes in our tap water and now that the competition has forced them to make improvements, it is not worth the risk to drink from water bottles. Tap water is 75% safer than it was in the 90’s.  (I just pulled that statistic out of my uh…toxic land fill. It is ok to use creative license with statistics). 

Self help books were good to read because they gave me something to do instead of living and  they protected me from the dangerous alternative – living life and making mistakes without having someone imperfect to blame until I was ready to accept the fact that we are all imperfect and mistakes are inevitable. 

As for trying and failing at spending enough money or losing enough weight to be all that I was told I should be…well…I always suspected it! I told you so!  “I always suspected it” and “I told you so” are the dynamic duo of this new hind sighted wisdom.  “I never truly believed it” rounds out the set nicely.  Don’t worry if it makes no sense, we are talking about wisdom, not logic here.

No matter what change or challenge we are facing individually or as a nation, we can rest assured that hindsight personal and national will prove our greatest ego ally.  In the meantime, I will be on Facebook perfecting my ability to daily spin my life in the way I want my significant others to perceive it.  If it turns out this is a mistake at least I have my justification ready  - but all my friends were doing it!

 

 

 

Building MOMentum

I am not agitated any more.  I am back to the old mom I have always been: able to handle multiple conversations with a single ear, able to leap to action and get kids dropped off on time, able to single handedly applaud the accomplishments of 4 children no matter how great or small.  (Can you applaud with a single hand? I can).  It feels like comfortable shoes.  I have comfort, support and mobility but not much to look at.

I have been broadcasting my demo jillibee.net, and published a chapter of a collaborative Facebook novel (or a novel Facebook collaboration).  I have network follow upped with a couple of people from the EXPO (putting off most of that cause that part feels awkward) and I've gotten some people lined up to put on a children's musical I wrote.  This should be happening this summer.  But if I want to really make some money I am going to have to do much much more than this.  I don't know just what, though.  I need to make some money doing what I love, so that I can have this home I love, to do more of what I am doing more comfortably.

We have thrown ourselves full boar into getting... this house. You thought I was going to say "swine flu" didn't you?  Full boar into getting swine flu seems more poetic, and more likely than getting this house; but it is NOT over until the fat lady sings.  AND I am hoping it is not over IF the fat lady sings.  (Incidentally I don't want to get anything with the word "swine" in it.  The only thing worse would be getting the "big ass pneumonia".  Or the "fat old lady syndrome").  It is fun to want things.  It is scary to want such BIG things and not knowing how it will come about.  It is faith time.  So much of this is out of my control. 

So I am trying to put one foot in front of the other (and keep both feet out of my mouth).  I am telling people what I want and working to have things that people will want from me.  I am trying to stay grounded with the kids without feeling like I have been grounded and sent to room without any fun. 

I have no point to this blog but I am hoping we can all point to this blog in a few years and say "remember back then, before all this great stuff happened and I was just starting to put myself out there?"  It is fun to hope and act in ways that are consistent with the life I want to live while I wait for the life I want to be living to be the life I have.  (Get it?)  :)  I hope I do!

NOW YOU CAN HEAR ME TOO!

I have a 4 song demo at Jillibee.net.  Eventually this will be a whole bunch of me, but for now, it is just the fat lady singing...but it's not over!!

From Mommyhood to Hollywood and back?

Last Wednesday I celebrated my daughter turning 12 and then packed up the car and drove all night to LA where I attended the ASCAP I CREATE MUSIC EXPO and stayed in the Renaissance Hollywood hotel ALL BY MYSELF!!! 

As an artist I have been feeling a little dry lately.  Life has been all about trying to buy the big house we are renting (via short sale), home schooling and trying to feel better with my daily aches and pains. I actually wondered if maybe the creative juice had been all squeezed out.  I almost didn't attend the EXPO because I have been so physically run down.  An interesting thing happened with each mile I drove South, I began to feel lighter and my thoughts began flowing and by the time I reached LA 6 hours later I was an artist again.  Despite the heavy demands on my body with long exhausting days in small uncomfortable chairs, I was able to function with the level of pain I was in.

The EXPO was a smorgasbord of musicians and creative people to meet.  There were mega stars (I will name drop some other time but if you go to the website you can verify this statement). I felt energized and alive and had no shortage of ideas or enthusiasm for the future.  I met some people in important places who believed I was important enough to consider going some place.  I believed them.

Then I came home.  The people I love most in the world were waiting for me in the house we are hoping to buy.  Today, back to the grind, I realize to my horror, that I am feeling distracted and agitated and like a pacing mama tiger in a short cage. I want to write.  I want to sing.  I want to talk to other musicians and bounce ideas around.  Instead I am trying to decipher 3 voices all coming at me at once, show proper enthusiasm for new tricks, play games I have played for 22 years as if I cared who wins, and send my thoughts out to my linear husband one at a time, slowly and patiently (instead of in a fire hose of words on top of the river of words the other creative person is sending out simultaneously). 

Even on a day where no one has to be anywhere or do anything, I found I was easily stressed.  I am hoping, in part, this is due to the uncertainty of our living arrangements and the fact that owner of this house is still showing it to others while our offer is being considered (or as I call it "dream stealing strangers are traipsing through my living room and perusing my pantry in front of my children").  I am hoping this is just the post event let down from such an exciting event. 

But it troubles me.  I just want to get back to my tribe.  I want to go make music and find hook lines and write well.  I don't know how to balance this strong desire I have, and have always had for my art.  This is precisely why I made the decision to put all my reproductive eggs in one basket and JUST be a mommy.  I LOVE LOVE LOVE MAKING MUSIC and serving my muse creating songs and shows!!  I think I love it too much.  When my kids were small, I remember a 12 hour day in the recording studio that felt like an hour.  My kids were both in diapers and I did not feel led to check on them all day (they were with my husband of course).  It scared  me, just as this feeling right now scares me.  I have chosen to be a half assed artist so I could be a full time mommy.  Now that I am considering being a full time artist again, I am not willing to become a half assed mommy. 

Chaka Khan was at the EXPO and talked of her regrets at having spent so much time away from her baby when he was young, having missed all "the firsts".  I know I would have those regrets too had I chosen to mother in a different way.  But I have been mothering in this way for nearly 22 years (although the first few years of my oldest son's life were divided between music and writing and working and school).  And I am tired.  And I hate to admit it, I am bored.  I have done this all before and seen where it leads (they grow up and leave).  I know I should be ashamed to admit this all, especially in so public a way, but I have promised to tell the truth so we could work it all out together.  Today, the truth is, I want some more shiny in my life. 

The good news is that we need some more shiny nickels to afford this house.  The plan  now is for me to get some creative income generating work.  That is a good motivation. That is a good justification for shifting the weight of mothering a bit and letting go of my need to do it all exactly as I think it should be done.  The family is supportive.  The stars seem to be aligning for me to start putting myself out there.  I just hope once I'm "out there" I will still be able to "be here" and everyone will shine brighter for it.

A Peaceful MOMent

I love being a Mom and I love these beings who made me a Mom, with a force more powerful than any I have ever felt or will ever feel. That said, 22 years is a long time at one career, even one as sacred as this one. I don't do "MOM" half way either, all my eggs (so to speak) are in this basket. I home school,nurse, and carpool (not all at once usually). I share my bed, my food, and my body with these delicious delightful parasites for as long as it is healthy for them that I do so. I feel called to this life, and I show up. I don't knock any other way to Mother, but my intuition and experience has guided me into this way.

That said, though I am hesitant to admit it, I have been feeling really burnt out lately. Maybe it's just a case of spring fever. It could also be related to my angst over the whole "where are we going to live?" situation. It could be the market, or more specifically-my husband's devotion to it. He works long hours in the market. (No, not the super market, the stock market). WHATEVER it is, causing it, I have felt restless and cranky and bored and guilty. (Moms are not allowed to feel anything but sacrificial love or a crack is made for guilt to seep through). I was certain last night, (as I expressed to my husband in one of those late night "let it all hang out and drown the poor S.O.B. in a "TYRANTial" down pour of words") that I would need to break away and get some "ME" time to relieve this restlessness I was feeling. Lucky for me, I have a ME weekend on the calendar- if I can just stay sane until April 23. Last night that looked like a long shot.

Today we went into San Francisco (LOVE IT) to buy my 13 year old son the much coveted sword from China Town (a Christmas present promise we had yet to fulfill). My 11 year old daughter was in a good mood after having been delighted to discover that her pink shirt with the glittered studs and the jeans with the glittered studs matched her pink cowboy hat with the glittered studs and her pink rhinestone cross necklace. My 4 year old bought and immediately broke, a $3.00 sword (which I spent over an hour fixing as soon as we got home. He was thrilled with the screw and duct taped improvement to the original model). The new DSI (Gameboy) came in and was available at midnight so we stopped by Game Stop on the way home for my son to buy it with the money he had been saving. While waiting for them to come out, my 22 year old called from Southern CA where he attends the Disney animation school (Cal Arts) to find out the title of the Pokemon episode he watched with his brother. He sounded busy and happy (I love what he is busy with - learning to animate)! When we got home, my 4 year old put on a black dance leotard, cowboy boots, a dog tag, his sword, and an "I mean business face"; certain that he was a fierce Ninja. Then all the kids went out with their sweet best friend (we have known since he was 6 mos old) and lit stink bombs and tried the patience of our neighbors with their enthusiasm.

If you made it through that paragraph, it may occur to you that there was absolutely nothing in this day directly for me. In fact, my day started with sitting in the sun for 2 hours watching my daughter kick butt at baseball and ended with me here on the computer 14 hours later. The only thing I can remember picking for myself today, was which topping to put on my frozen yogurt. Yet, as I sit here checking my Facebook (ME TIME - REAL TIME - BIG TIME), I am filled to over flowing with the joy of my vocation. This day has filled my children and if they remember it at all, they will remember it as a good day. It is a mystery to me how this works; but time and time again, just when I am certain my well has run dry permanently; some little simple miracle of motherhood fills it all back up and then some.

Having spread my kids out over so many years, I often wonder if there will be an ACT II for ME; where I get to just run wild with reckless abandon through my field of free will and endless opportunity (or any opportunity). I wonder if there will be a day when I spread these gilded wings of potential I have kept neatly folded- lest they knock all the brick-a-brack of domesticity hither and yon, and see how far I can fly. I don't suppose I am any different from any other mother on this point, except that my vision of "the golden years" involves a purple feather boa, rhinestones, and bawdy humor in some cabaret some where. There are no guarantees, in fact many would feel this is a sad hope to cling to in a world that prizes the young. However, at this moment, in this peaceful home with happy kids; I would not trade this lifestyle for anything. Tonight, I have found a small pocket of gratitude in which to breathe deeply a breath of fresh

Weighty issues on TV (and in my head)

This week on TV I watched Star Jones, Marie Osmond and Valerie Bertinelli on Oprah talking about the heart aches and victories in their battle with weight. They all seem to be in remission for the time being. 

Star risked her life getting her stomach cut open and sewn shut. She was remorseful about not telling the world about it nor sharing with the world how hard her life had been before.  Apparently the world had a right to all her deepest feelings.  Today she is feeling free to let the world in on those secrets that for some reason weight loss has given her the freedom to feel secure enough to share and because she is skinny now; people care enough to listen to.

Marie Osmond talked of the pain of being "that fat sister" of the talented Osmonds and being told to lose weight at 110lbs, so she starved to weigh 93. Now she is FREE at last and thanks to pre-packaged foods (and I suspect an endorsement) by Nutri-System, all that is behind her. Horrified at her Dancing with the Stars weight of 160-170 she has starved herself to a comfortable size 2-4. Thank goodness she is free from the pressure she felt to be thin when she was younger. (Can you see my tongue in my cheek?)

Valerie (I've always liked her) has a smoking body and is a star again in her bikini, thanks to Jenny Craig. Or is Jenny Craig the star again thanks to Valerie?  Or was it Kirstie Alley?  Hey what happened to Kirstie Alley?  Tabloids don't show her looking so good and since she is invisible again I fear they may be true.  Do people get to make fun of her again (though some never stopped)?  Should they have gotten to in the first place?  Weight, wasn't this supposed to be about Valerie?  What if SHE gains the weight back, will she go away again?

As I listened to the heartache and horrors of being a fat woman in Hollywood and the shame they felt in letting themselves become "THAT" (With all the tolerance preached on Oprah, Fat is still the "THAT" we don't ever want to become); I saw Oprah's shame and empathic pain. I felt my own, and remembered to feel bad about myself again. (Phew! I'd almost forgotten! And good thing too, I'm about to take some risks and have some fun. Wouldn't want to forget to pack this baggage to take along!)

I am about to go to Hollywood for my annual ASCAP conference. It is not all about me by any stretch, but I want to put my best foot forward as I meet and mingle with others in this industry, so I can be taking seriously as a pro. creator and not be dismissed as a pro-creator.  That means I really should take off some years and leave half of me at home.  In the previous years, I have had a budget for new clothes. (If you can't be thin or young, you'd better be rich). This year I feel older, poorer and fatter. I hate when that happens!  (As if I could ever feel young rich or thin enough!)

I wish I did not feel this pressure to change in order to be taken seriously.  Perhaps you think it is all in my head.  It is. Story after story of outrageous, out of context comments about how much better I would look and how much more successful I would be - thinner, are stored in my head from my very earliest days in this "business" up until last year. (I have always fluxuated between a size 12-18. Even at my heaviest I'm not Gilbert Grape's mother or anything. I'm just MOMish). (The mere fact I felt compelled to type that shows how bad I have this social disease about size BTW)!   Don't get me wrong, I want to change me, sure I do! I'll take that pill or drink from that fountain if they discover it.  But in the meantime, I need to call a spade a spade; and fat women are the new "black"; as in "African American" - who have been under represented or misrepresented for years.  It is ok to discriminate against fat women because they are invisible and trying to keep it hush hush. Well I'm going to have a hard time being quiet (at any weight) and don't like being ignored. (Can you TELL?)

In other words, since I can't do anything about myself at the moment, I think I will take on the industry standard that makes me feel like I should.  WHY is it so bad for a woman to be fat in Hollywood?  Art immitates life and the truth is, many of us women living life are fat.  Why is it THE THING you can not show in any meaningful way on television (unless it is a show about losing weight or dying from not losing weight?  Why are fat women so despised, ignored or ridiculed?  Is it because it is believed to be their fault?  Is it a kind of moral stand against self-destructive behavior?  Wait, this is Hollywood, who made "re-hab" a household word and one of the seasons in the life of a successful star.  I just don't know why women have a moral obligation to be thin and young in order to be depicted on television except sitting on Oprah or some other show talking about how they need help shedding the pounds or need applause for having shed them.

I'm happy for these women who appeared on Oprah.  I am happy for any woman who can shuffle off this mortal coil that makes life eaiser and longevity more likely.  Hollywood is tough. These three invisible women revived their careers by shrinking back to a size we can recognize!  (Though they can't lose age, so I fear it's a temporary fix.  But that is for another blog).

In contrast to the Oprah show, and the self-conscious feelings it evoked in me; Friday morning I saw Jack Black dancing on "Yo Gabba Gabba". At one point he was in a skin tight, bright orange jumpsuit. My kids and I were delighted by his giant bouncy belly. He was the picture of plump. And we loved him. I could sit here and come up with a dozen fat and aging men who have big bodies and big careers, and often star in movies where they "get the girl" (a thin and beautiful younger woman).  Why is it ok for men to age and put on weight but not women?  Is it because even if they have a lot of weight on them they refuse to BE it?  I mean, really, is that all we women can talk about? (And trust me, I KNOW I have a monotonous fat loop playing on my "I-BOD" so I am NOT casting stones!) 

Oh never mind. It is much too complex for me to unravel now. I'm too busy thinking about my upcoming weekend transition from motherhood to Hollywood to worry any more about the things I can not control. I have only 2 weeks to plan my outfits and activities and since that is not enough time to lose all the weight or age I would want to lose to be PERFECT, I am going to have to find something else to focus on.  Based on what I saw from the heavy hitters this week though, given the choice between the apologetic formerly fat Oprah guests and jumping Jack Black,  I think I will look for a bright orange, skin tight jumpsuit.  Life is short, I refuse to let anybody (even MY body) keep me from dancing.