Sunday, September 22, 2013
VANITY CHER
http://www.cbsnews.com/8301-3445_162-57604026/cher-speaks-her-mind/
When I was fifteen, I wanted long, glossy hair and a flat stomach like Cher. Today I'm 53,and although I don't care as much that her hair is still glossy and she probably has a flat stomach, I couldn't stop myself from longing for a smooth neck like Cher's.
And her face. Cher can turn back time. She's 67. (Hillary Clinton is 66).
I watch CBS Sunday Morning in the same way that some people go to church except I'm still wearing my PJs. But during today's "Cher Speaks Her Mind" segment I found myself mesmerized by her in the very same way that I'd sit captivated all those years ago, watching The Sonny and Cher Show, and later The Cher Show.
And though she has more plastic in her face than the Tupperware factory, I can't not like her. She's out-spoken and feisty, a legendary performer. Moonstruck is one of my favorite movies. I'm not a Cher hater, not at all.
I just can't come to grips with her face. And that neck. I get tangled in our culture's unrealistic aging expectations - we all do. I get a mild dose of it now and then when I worry that maybe at mid-50 fabulous is no longer attainable, or at least not without the help of lasers, needles, and knives.
I can't say that Cher is a strong woman. She's too vane, and won't age with dignity like my brave women heroes or strong women like you or me.
Saturday, September 21, 2013
Saturday, September 14, 2013
"Congratulations!"
That's the typical response I get when I say, "I'm a breast cancer survivor."
Honestly, I don't know what to say back to these well meaning people with their tap water cool emotions other than a mildly bewildered thank you. While I know people feel discomfort when they hear the word cancer, and maybe they aren't certain of what to say, I think congrats! is reserved for special occasions, not survival of a serious health crisis.
Congratulations is the thing we say to people who celebrate special occasions like anniversaries, college graduations, and new babies.
Example:
"My book got published!" "Congratulations!" (Where's the party?)
"My daughter's getting married!" "Congratulations!" (She's off the payroll!)
"I won 3rd runner up in the Miss Hurlburt Field contest!" "Congratulations!" (What the hell is a Hurlburt?)
When I say "I'm a breast cancer survivor," I'm saying that I have seen my mortality in the mirror, felt raw fear, and suffered. Also, that I looked like a Q-Tip for a year with my bald head and skinny body.
I'm saying I fought to stay here on this patch of the planet with my beloved family, my cherished friends, and my darling doggies. Too, I am sharing a moment of our mortal condition, a reminder of our vulnerability, and how quickly circumstance can change our lives for good or ill.
I'm telling people that my every thought and action tumbles through my every moment is precious filter like laundry through the rinse cycle.
If you told me, "I survived an IED explosion in Afghanistan," I hope that I would take your hand, look in your eyes, and say, "I'm really glad you're here today."
Monday, March 25, 2013
"I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back,
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches." - Robert Frost
You know how people are always telling us we have to become willow trees in order to survive a tempest, to bend and sway and be all laid back and loose, like we'd smoked a pound of pot or something? Otherwise, we'll snap. Or at least that's what all the willows say.
I say bullshit. I'm never going to be a willow tree. I'm a hardwood. Type A control freak with leaves that tremble when the wind whispers. Doom and gloom with a mix of optimism. A good life storm will take me down and keep me down, "You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen," says Frost of birches.
But birches don't break. They bend in a storm without getting all willowy about it.
Painting by Kimberly Kiel
Painting by Kimberly Kiel
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Year of the Snake
Year of the snake! That's what I say aloud to most everything: the fiscal crisis, my pal Wendser's new career choice, another friend's move from the Pacific Northwest to the non-Pacific Southwest, the plumbing problem with my bathtub.
I say it more like a validation of the challenges and changes we are all picking our way through, but also to provide a more visual, creative, even spiritual way of thinking through problems, one that is more self-aware than something like "why does this shit always happen to me?" (Why does this victim mentality seem so familiar? Hmmm.).
I held a snake, a boa, when I visited Jamaica. The boa was beautiful, very Bob Marley, an every-little-thing-gonna-be-alright kind of snake. Bob was heavy around my neck, a smooth muscle, very focused and Zen. He stretched his head toward his keeper with a kind of strength my core will never know, and his body followed. He wished himself to the place he wanted to go like a leap of faith.
I've thought about change and rebirth in the way Bob Marley the Boa might think of shedding skin, in the way of growth and making himself new.
Ancient Chinese wisdom says the serpent is feminine, represents wisdom. Year of the Serpent is a time of seeking, planning, and change.
I've thought about the serpent's strong connection with the earth, the graceful way she moves. She's focused on a destination, but moves circuitously, sometimes laterally or curls her way past obstacles with immense flexibility, and what seems to be an elegant belief system like faith that every little thing gonna be alright.
I say it more like a validation of the challenges and changes we are all picking our way through, but also to provide a more visual, creative, even spiritual way of thinking through problems, one that is more self-aware than something like "why does this shit always happen to me?" (Why does this victim mentality seem so familiar? Hmmm.).
I held a snake, a boa, when I visited Jamaica. The boa was beautiful, very Bob Marley, an every-little-thing-gonna-be-alright kind of snake. Bob was heavy around my neck, a smooth muscle, very focused and Zen. He stretched his head toward his keeper with a kind of strength my core will never know, and his body followed. He wished himself to the place he wanted to go like a leap of faith.
I've thought about change and rebirth in the way Bob Marley the Boa might think of shedding skin, in the way of growth and making himself new.
Ancient Chinese wisdom says the serpent is feminine, represents wisdom. Year of the Serpent is a time of seeking, planning, and change.
I've thought about the serpent's strong connection with the earth, the graceful way she moves. She's focused on a destination, but moves circuitously, sometimes laterally or curls her way past obstacles with immense flexibility, and what seems to be an elegant belief system like faith that every little thing gonna be alright.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Need a Man Update, too?
Cougarlicious!
A Couple of Things is not responsible for hot flashes or spontaneous hot man hugging, but we will take credit for raising your breast health awareness.
Have fun out there!
Need a Man?
Here's a Man Reminder to give your breasts a little TLC (Touch, Look, Check). Watch the video and then go to www.rethinkbreastcancer.com to learn more about breast health. This website supports all women, and is geared to younger women's awareness. I've added it to my cougar prowl list.
This breast cancer awareness, um, tool is available through iTunes and Android--FREE.
Have fun out there and feel your boobies!
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