I'm So Pretty

I recently got some new make up, courtesy of an Ulta gift card and a mom who loves to help me spend my Ulta gift cards. If you're not familiar with Ulta, it's a beauty/make up store that has a ton of different brands of make up, shampoo, hair accessories - basically it's a one-stop-shop for all your beauty needs. I love it there. And, no, this post is not paid for by Ulta (but if anyone from Ulta is reading this, you're welcome and also I need some free eyeshadow).

Last night, I was getting ready in the bathroom while Daniel played with the kids. I began to put my make up on, and, like always, I began criticizing the way I looked. At first I kept it to myself, just noticing my dry skin, my round face, the way my nose looked. I eventually became so frustrated that I said out loud, "I cannot beLIEVE how ugly I am right now. I hate how awful I look." Daniel, who is a saint, told me that I was wrong and that I looked lovely.

As much as I appreciated his words, that wasn't what made me stop complaining. It was the sound of Josh laughing as Daniel tossed him the air that stopped my next words from coming out of my mouth. I looked into the living room, and there was the rest of my family, playing together and smiling. And both of my kids had just heard me say that I was ugly, and that I hated the way I looked. I mean, they probably didn't hear me say those actual words. Josh was very busy being wrestled with and Jenna was trying to fit her whole hand into her mouth, so odds are good that they never even knew that I was there. But my words still horrified me.

I know that seems like an over-the-top response to something that wasn't a big deal. But in that moment, I realized how much I complain about my looks, my skills, my life. And maybe my kids don't understand that right now, but they will. They will hear me say that and understand my words sooner than I realize. And I don't want that.

Recently I was watching Jenna play with one of her favorite toys, a stuffed monkey from Aunt ShonShon. As I sat next to her, watching her laugh and giggle over something that really was not that funny, I found my mind wandering to the future. What would Jenna be like as a teenager? Would she still be my smiling, happy girl? Would she be feeling the pressure of friends, classmates, and commercials to look and act a certain way? Would she like the way she looked? The thought of my beautiful little girl thinking that she was ugly broke my heart. I don't want that for her. I don't want it for Joshua, either.

I want both of my kids to know that their beauty has little to do with their appearance. I want them to know that to be a truly beautiful person, you have to start from the inside and work your way out. That they do not have to prove anything to anyone in order to obtain self-worth. That they may not always feel their best, but that as long as they are trying their best, everything will be okay. I want them to know that bad haircuts are a rite of passage, and instead of focusing on their bangs, they should focus on the friends they have made and the blessings that they have. I want them to realize that they are fearfully and wonderfully made, and that no matter what their eye color is or how much they weigh, they are loved and valued.

But how I can teach my kids how important it is to value themselves if I don't value myself? If Josh and Jenna hear me tell them that it's what's on the inside the counts, and then turn around and call myself ugly, what kind of message am I sending them?

So I have decided to stop saying things like that. More importantly, I am going to try to stop thinking things like that. Don't get me wrong - make up isn't evil. I still love Ulta (and am still waiting for my eyeshadow, AHEM), and I will continue to wear make up like I normally do. I know it is equally important for my kids to know that eating well and living a healthy life is something that will benefit them, and I will continue to encourage them to do that. But in this house, there will be no more complaints of being ugly, of being fat, of being unworthy of other people.

Nothing I can do or say will totally stop my kids from feeling down about themselves at some point. I know that. But I also know that the most important lessons in life start at home, and if I want to teach my children anything, first I have to believe it for myself.

Save the Ta Tas

When I was in high school, my health teacher had all the girls separate into smaller groups. She told us to look around at each of our group members one by one. She then told us that according to current statistics, one person in each group would develop breast cancer in their lifetime. At the time I didn't think much of it. Bad things didn't happen to me or my family (note from the future: LOL) and I wasn't concerned.

Then, in 2009, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 48. Suddenly breast cancer was all too real. It was threatening and dangerous. And I could no longer look at the pink ribbons or the ads for the Susan G. Komen race without understanding how short life really is.

October is Breast Cancer Awareness month. Over the last few years, it's been the theme to raise awareness for breast cancer by using a lot of pink and making silly shirts that say "Save the Ta Tas" or "Save Second Base." People run races with their bras on the outside of their shirt. Mysterious Facebook statuses go up that say "I like it on the stairs" as a secret message to supposedly raise awareness. And, to be honest, all of that stuff really annoys me. I understand what it's trying to do - make people understand how prevalent breast cancer is and how much research is needed to combat it.

But all it really does is make it funny. And breast cancer isn't funny.

It's my humble opinion that the main reason people try to make it funny is that it's a taboo subject and everyone thinks boobies are funny. It's uncomfortable to talk about so they go out of their way to make it comfortable. They giggle and laugh and come up with clever nicknames for breasts and then put it on a t-shirt so everyone can join in on the fun. And it makes people who don't know the statistics think that breast cancer is no big deal and could possibly be hilarious. I don't think that is the intention of the funny shirts at all. It just happens to be the result. I have had multiple people tell me they're tired of seeing pink ribbons everywhere and how it's annoying that breast cancer gets so much attention when other cancers don't.

Do you want to know the real reason that it gets more attention? It's because 1 in 8 women in the US alone will be diagnosed with invasive breast cancer in their lives. It's because it is the number two cause of death for women, after lung cancer. It's because if you get breast cancer, the odds are high that you will have to have part of your breast removed or, for some people, your breasts removed completely.

Is it funny now?

I don't want sit up here on my high horse and judge someone for raising awareness with a funny t-shirt. I get the idea. I think raising awareness is awesome. I know that other cancers are just as important and deadly as breast cancer is. But I also know that breast cancer is a serious thing. It deserves respect. Raising awareness isn't about saving ta tas or second base or boobies. It's about saving lives. So break out your pink shirts, get your mammograms, and understand that while breasts make us giggle, cancer never should.

Beauty and the Beast

I love this movie. Love, love, love. Belle was always my favorite Disney princess because she has brown hair and loves to read - just like me!!

The resemblance is uncanny, no?

I love this movie so much that tonight I went to go see it in 3-D!! It was fabulous. We looked really good in our glasses. Especially me because I was wearing my 3-D glasses over my regular glasses.

Daniel, who graciously agreed to see the movie with me, was understandably less thrilled than BFF Jen and I were about seeing a princess movie, and started his own running commentary throughout the movie. I noticed a pattern - he was going through all the plot holes of the movie, including but not limited to:

1) Why didn't Maurice just turn around when he knew he'd missed the turn?

2) How did Philippe get the Beast on his back and haul him all the way to the castle after the wolves attacked him? And what trauma did the Beast endure to make him fall unconscious... if a 90-pound woman can stomach it, so can he.

3) If the last petal falls on the Beast's 21st birthday, and they say in the song they've been waiting 10 years for the spell to be broken, this makes the Beast 11 when the spell was cast. But the painting of him is of a grown-up Beast. Daniel spent half the movie trying to figure this out. He came up with a few plausible solutions if you're interested.

I have heard these from other people as well, all wanting to know what Disney could have been thinking to leave out such obvious details. (Daniel gets a pass because he is a guy and I'm guessing this wasn't his favorite flick growing up. And because I think he's cute.) And while I am no stranger to the movie mockery... come on. Come on. Let's take a step back here for a minute. 

This is a movie about talking dishes and candlesticks and wardrobes. This is a movie where the cups not only talk to you, but offer sage life advice as well. Where an entire town is stalking one poor girl, waiting to see what book she will read next. Where no one is at all surprised at the revelation of a magic mirror and are totally on board with footrests that bark. And the biggest issue is that they might have gotten the Beast's age wrong? 

At best, this movie is a wonderful classic, full of happiness and true love and fabulous music. At worst, we are witnessing the effects of Belle dropping acid in order to get away from all the stresses of this provincial life. That would certainly explain the dancing spoons.

Don't sweat the small stuff. Focus on the awesomeness instead.

Also, the Beast's name? Adam, according to Disney. You're welcome.