Chameleon: A Guide for Girls

 Wrote this in 2004. Feeling moody today so letting it resurface. 

The first thing you learn is to keep your eyes to yourself. You learn see without looking.  Never raise your eyes, or if you must, keep them focused away from your subject, away from the action at hand.  Listening also needs to be mastered, but that's easy to practice without being noticed.  Seeing, now that's tricky. Eye contact attracts attention, and attention is what you avoid at all costs.

The importance of absorbing the scene around you cannot be underestimated. The fatal flaw of the outcast is complete withdrawal. When you are completely detached from your surroundings, you stand out.  You are alone, but you must not appear to be.  You need to blend, and that means participating in the most minimal way to whatever is happening.  You see and you hear, then you determine the average expression, movement, reaction, and that is what you do. If everyone is watching the kickball game, you watch the kickball game.  If everyone cheers, you cheer. If the girls squeal with horror when the team captain is hit in the nose with the ball, you squeal, even if inside you are grinning and imaging he will be permanently disfigured. You do not laugh, unless laughter is around you.

Over time you will get to be so good at seeing and hearing that being unnoticed becomes effortless.  It helps if you come from a quiet family, a humble one that doesn't fawn over accomplishments. You must avoid developing talents that could bring attention.  Become adept at being unremarkable.  If you have nice hair,  keep it short or pulled back. If you develop breasts, hid them under a baggy sweatshirt.  If you're smart, make sure it doesn’t show. You need to be smart in order for this to work.

Your goal is simple: to survive. You aren't pretty enough to be popular, confident enough to be different or edgy enough to be cool.  So you must blend, head down, eyes averted.  Avoid being hurt. Don't mimic the beautiful girls and become a target of their mocking.  Don't pull away completely and brand yourself an oddball. Don't get angry and end up a troublemaker.  Simply blend.  After a while you won't remember who you really are. In exchange for your individuality, you'll survive.  You'll bury your soul to keep it safe. You aren't proud, but you're intact. You aren't much, but you're alive.

Beginning to Sound a Lot Like Christmas

I'm a sucker for those radio stations that change over to an all-Christmas format in December.  This year the Bay Area has two, and since holiday tunes make for kid-safe listening we've been tuning in an awful lot. After a few weeks of carols I noticed some trends and have confirmed a few with a neutral outside party (my mom). I now present my findings on this vital topic.

For stations that play Christmas songs 24 hours a day, they sure lack variety. With decades of favorites to choose from, they seem rely mostly on Jingle Bell Rock, Winter Wonderland and The Christmas Song. And at least 4 out of 10 times that I turn on the radio, Mariah Carey's "All I Want for Christmas Is You" is playing. This song was was released in 1994, for those wanting to feel time rushing past them.

Christmas 2011 is treating Karen Carpenter very well. In past years I'd hear "No Place Like Home For the Holidays" or maybe "Merry Christmas Darling" but this year the entire Carpenters Christmas Collection getting plenty of airplay. She's got a wonderful voice, and even if the songs all end up sounding the same I usually don't try the other station if Karen is on.

Each year a song seems to be rediscovered and then immediately played to death. A few years back "Baby, It's Cold Outside" received a much-deserved return to the standard holiday rotation. Not so much for this year's apparent darling, a slight creepy 1992 Frank Sinatra/Cyndi Lauper duet of "Santa Claus is Coming to Town."  Three weeks ago I'd never heard this song, and now I hear it daily. This "duet" is an unnatural hybrid of the pop-punk diva's vocals slapped alongside Franks' original 1957 recording.  Why now, 19 years later, does this song merit a revival? Ah, but it could be worse. There is an entire album of Elvis Christmas "duets" with 2008's hottest female country stars that mercifully has not caught on, at least not around these parts.

Novelty songs seem to be on the outs. I've only heard "Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer" once. Nary a Jingle Cat in sight. The wackiest song I've heard is "I Want A Hippopotamus for Christmas" which features a 10-year old girl with a nasally twang longing for a hippo hero. I kind of love it.

When it comes to the more traditional carols, "Do You Hear What I Hear" garners more air time than any other. The powerful Whitney Houston rendition certainly contributes, but plenty of other versions have popped up in the Christmas rotation. Why this song, this year? It remains a holiday mystery, like how Santa fits down the chimney and why I'm the only person who seems to love fruitcake. But I'll keep the dial tuned until December 25th. Who knows, maybe I'll hear some Jingle Cats before Christmas Eve arrives.

(For a less traditional holiday soundtrack, check out my 25 Days of Christmas Songs, the gift that keeps on giving, if what you want is funky holiday songs.)

Loving the Taste of Life

Have you seen this? I hate this.

"Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels." Kate Moss said it in 2009 and the pro-ana community (yes, there is a pro-anorexia community) has really latched onto it. I see it pop up with alarming regularity on Pinterest and Tumblr and other sites that collect and spread ideas. Often they are part of thinspo galleries, photo collections of below-weight waifs meant to serve as "thinspiration" for those similarly starving themselves.

One thing I notice among all these collections: The sickly-thin girls are almost never smiling. They are smug, they are proud, but not happy. Because when the rush of seeing their thin frames disappears, they are still not loved. And that's what they are after. They starve themselves to reach a place they have decided will make them perfect, where they able to be loved and to love themselves. They are trying to get rid of themselves so they can find what they lack. It's a race to nowhere. No matter how thin they get, they are still the person they are.

The visible measure these girls have chosen is false. Because the truth is fat people find love all the time. And average-sized people, and skinny people, and people with crooked teeth, and people missing an eye. Love is not about how you look. It's about loving who you are.

To the worthless notion that nothing tastes as good as skinny feels, I offer this quote from the movie Spanglish:

American women, I believe, actually feel the same as Hispanic women about weight: A desire for the comfort of fullness. And when that desire is suppressed for style and deprivation allowed to rule, then dieting, exercising American women become afraid of everything associated with being curvaceous, such as wantonness, lustfulness, sex, food, motherhood. All that is best in life.

A life locked in pursuit of an empty ideal is a tortured life. The things we can love about ourselves are countless. To live a full life we must look beyond our appearance and feed the longings of our soul. That starts with forgiving, with healing. It can never come from what we do or don't eat.

So to counter the damaging message proposed by the icon above I offer these images featuring the amazing model Yanderis Lodos. And unlike the catchphrase at the top of this page, these are TRUE. No one body type is perfect. Not every size is healthy. But loving the person you are has absolutely nothing to do with size.

This Must Stop

My reaction to the Penn State scandal, which is just one of many where children are broken apart and those who see and know do nothing to help. I tried to make this shorter but couldn't.
Please share if you can. Everyone needs to know this.

The text version, with some sections I cut out.

THIS MUST STOP. If you witness a child being sexually abused, CALL 911. Do not discuss what to do with a boss or a school administrator or a church leader or a parent or a friend or the perpetrator. CALL 911.

What you are witnessing is a CRIME. The worst part is the victims think they are the ones doing something wrong. Give them back a tiny piece of their shattered lives by saying: THIS IS A CRIME and IT IS GOING TO STOP.

If you hear of or suspect sexual abuse, REPORT IT. Tell the Police or Child Protective Services. If you witness sexual abuse, STOP IT. If intervening is not possible due to fear, safety or chock, get to a phone can CALL 911. Make sure the police are on their way to stop it if you cannot.

Know This: The perpetrator has done this to other children before, and will again. UNLESS YOU STOP IT.

This is not a matter to be handled quietly.

It is a CRIME to be handled by the POLICE.

Let the perpetrators of sexual violence against children know:

WE WILL NOT PROTECT YOU ANYMORE. We will not allow your power, prestige, reputation, and influence to hide the fact that you are molesting children. This is not horseplay. It is SEXUAL ABUSE.

These crimes are horrific. That people shield the perpetrators for the sake of friendship, to protect a family name or to avoid scandal is DESPICABLE. They are accomplices in what occurs. Their silence and protection of abusers enables them to rape or molest again and again.

Any ONE PERSON who knows has the power to stop it. But fear or friendship or reputation become more important than children being molested. NO MORE.

We WILL NOT turn a blind eye to abuse. We will let children know THEY ARE MORE IMPORTANT than any job, church, team or school. THEY ARE MORE IMPORTANT than the PERSON HURTING THEM.

Abuse of children will not end. What must end is OUR SILENCE.

THIS MUST STOP.

REPORT SEXUAL ABUSE. CALL 911.

The world is a dangerous place,

not because of those who do evil,

but because of those who look on and do nothing.

- Albert Einstein 

Half-Baked Birthday

I'm annoyed by the trite things I find myself scribbling in birthday cards or posting on Facebook walls. While not untrue, "Wishing you a great day!" is hardly the warm personal message that a birthday deserves. There is so much I love about the people in my life. I'd like to let them know how great they are instead of just telling them to "Have a good one."

This blog has been slowly sputtering to life, and I'm still looking to find my groove here. I want to keep on task with writing, and giving my friends more thoughtful birthday tributes seemed like a great motivation to write often and spread some happiness. Since they are a more specific and personal type of message than my general blather I created another blog for my birthday blurbs, Half-Baked Birthday.

I don't have a master list of people who I'll be writing messages to. A lot is going to depend on how much free time I have - often not much with two kids underfoot. Blurbs for some people will just pop out. Others, especially people I'm close to, are harder to write. I might not know when your birthday is. (If you don't tell Facebook, it doesn't tell me!) And like most of my projects, this one may get derailed for a while if life intervenes. I may not get to you this year, or at all, but that doesn't mean you aren't wonderful and amazing. If you'd really like one just ask. A subtle comment like "Nice idea" or "I really like these" will also let me know you'd appreciate one on your special day.

Until then, Happy Birthday Wonderful You.

Friday Food: Strawberry Mice

This one isn't so much a recipe as a way to make an ordinary bowl of fruit something special. At Lucas' preschool there was another birthday boy on his big day, and that boy's mom was already making cupcakes. The teacher suggested I bring in strawberries, but a pile of fruit didn't seem very celebratory to me. A quick internet search revealed the wonders of strawberry mice. I didn't have any of the decorations they suggested, so I improvise with raisins for ears, frosting for the nose & eyes, and a pretzel tail. I dropped each into a cupcake liner so they would be easy to serve at school.

As you might expect, they were a big hit with the 3-year-olds. All the kids were so excited to eat their mice. Three months later Lucas is still talking about them. Strawberry mice are a popular item at his play kitchen and whenever we play the drive-thru game. From now on I'll skip the baking and make fruit-based animals for special occasions.

Strawberry Mice

There are endless ways to construct your mice. Here are some ideas.

Body: Strawberries
Ears: Raisins or slivered almonds
Nose & eyes: Mini chocolate chips or dark icing in a tube
Tail: Thin shoestring licorice or sections of thin curved pretzels

Slice the top of the strawberry off at a shallow angle so their "noses" point more out than up. Add a nose at the tip of the strawberry, then add the eyes. Use a toothpick to carve out little dents to place the ears and tail in.

They look cutest if the eyes and ears are close to the nose. It takes a few tries to figure out how your mice will come together, but you'll find yourself with a batch of cute critters in no time.

No Thyself

Lately I've been trying to make myself a priority. The life of a stay-at-home mom means giving nearly every part of yourself to others. The kids demand most of my attention and energy, and what's left over goes into running errands, staying on top of chores, paying bills, scheduling appointments and making sure everyone else is alright.  Then maybe, if there is any time left, I can do something for myself. With the schedule I keep, that something is nearly always sleep. I'm determined to change this before I lose my own identity completely. The problem is, I don't know what to do with myself.

Of all the people who know me, you'd think the one who knows me best would be me. I live in this skin, peer at the world through these wide-open eyes and hear all the thoughts that click around this brain of mine. But when it comes to knowing myself I seem to have a rather large blind spot. I've tried those personality assessment tests (No, not the Scientology one, thank you very much.)  and I can't choose an answer. I'm never sure if I should put down they way I usually behave, what I value but rarely accomplish, what I'm hoping to be, or some mix of the above. I'm all over the map.

In my quest for identity I've been given an assignment: Ask friends to write things they appreciate about me. The idea is learning what others see in me might help me see myself more clearly. I balked at first. Blatantly asking people for compliments seems a little uncouth. But I realized this happens all the time, usually in the negative. We complain about something - a bad day, a rejection, an insult - and then people rush to praise us. Your boss is an idiot. You're a terrific cook. They don't know what they're missing. Why not skip the self-pity and go straight to asking for the good stuff?

So now I'm asking you. If you're so inclined, let me know what you appreciate about me. What am I good at?  What do you think of when you think of me?  Post it or send me an email or whatever. Or don't. I won't be keeping a list of those who don't respond and imagining they secretly hate me. It's not a tally of BFFs, just an little experiment to see if I can see myself better through the eyes of those that know me.