Loving the body you have right now

I believe that nearly every time a woman steps in front of a mirror, she sees someone new. Sure, she may have despised her thighs for decades or worried over her crooked nose for as long as she can remember or taken up a recent obsession with tiny lines where the skin was once smooth and ungratefully lovely.

She may be familiar with the body-hate, but she can't often settle in to the figure and face she sees staring back at her from the glass. If she could, women would say every day, "Oh, hello, you!" and hopefully, "Aren't you heavenly with your frizzy, crazy hair?" or "Ahh, all that laughing is finally imprinted on your face -- what a great reminder!" or "Yup, those are those thighs of mine!"

No judgment, just being in our bodies.

But we are not there yet -- most of us, at least. Until we are, we need to remind each other how to love the stranger-lady we greet in the mirror each morning. We need advice on shush-ing the hateful words and making mantras out of the caring comments. We need tips on how to create a closet and home and underwear drawer and brain that makes us happy and comforted and feel like the us we see matches up with the women we are underneath all the skin and muscles and stretch marks and jelly bellies and flat feet and freckles.

That's why I raised my hand excitedly when an editor at MSN's TakePart.com asked if I would write a piece on how to love your body, even though I have written about it a hundred times before in many other ways on many other sites. I said yes because I, like most of the women I know, need the words and have advice to share. And because it doesn't hurt to greet our changes bodies and faces with the gift of compassion and decluttering tutorials. 

I'm thrilled with the way this story turned out, and am so grateful to the fabulous Susan Wagner of Working Closet, Brittany Gibbons of Curvy Girl Guide, registered dietician Mary Hartley from DietsInReview, Brett Blumenthal of Sheer Balance and Karly Randolph Pitman from First Ourselves for adding their helpful, hopeful, heartfelt expert advice to my words.

Read "Stop the body hate: 15 tips for loving your body now" in the special Redefining Beauty issue on TakePart.com.

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More than just Not Friends

There was a conversation on the radio, on the terrible morning radio talk show that Lil E believes in his heart of precious hearts is "news radio" and I, for some less-than-stellar parenting reason cannot quit. What we should be listening to is NPR or a classical station or, for the love of all things holy in the morning, a DJ who will help me school my kid on the Beatles. But we don't. We listen to the alternaterrible station that gives me writing fodder and plays Katy Perry with enough regularity for us to have daily dance parties in the car on the way to school or camp.

And that's what we were doing when the music stopped and the talk about whether men and women can really be friends started on the airwaves that filled our car. 

We listened, me waiting for the signs of inappropriateness to creep up and with one finger poised to switch the station and Lil E staring out the window like he wasn't paying any attention, which always means he is devouring every single word.

I wanted the topic to stop. It's been played millions of times. It's cliche, it's unnecessary, it's easy filler at 8:37 a.m. in the moments before a celebrity guest dials in and the obligatory make=fun-of=the-ditzy-traffic-lady slot's been covered. But it is clearly a topic people love to discuss and maybe I should be there to teach my boy to roll his eyes when it comes up 437 more times in his young years.

I finally had enough, switched over to a playlist on my plugged-in phone, let whatever song shuffled through play quietly while we sat at a stop light.

"Do you think men and women can be only friends?" And there it was,Lil E asking from the back seat.

"Of course," I said as nonchalantly as possibly. "I have lots of men-friends. Walt. Shawn. Dad bloggers. Other guys I've known from camp and high school."

"And the Not Boyfriend," he added in. But there was a lilt at the end of his sentence that told me he was asking more than adding. 

There was a pause. Then he finished his question, "You two are just friends, right?"

I didn't allow a single second for processing or a purposeful pause. I jumped right back.

"No! He's my boyfriend." I looked at him in the mirror and smiled. "We're lots more than friends."

I smiled then. I wanted him to know it wasn't a silly question -- I got it was coming from somewhere deeper. Wishful thinking? Standing on the precipice of asking more about sex or love or something bigger? Whatever it was, the answer was obvious but the question was certainly not silly.

"But he's your boyfriend," he reasoned. "There's a friend in there."

"True," I came back quickly again. "But you don't smooch people who are only your friend."

His mouth opened to say more. But something happened -- a green light or his beloved Black Eyed Peas through the speakers or was it a distracting dog panting out of the back window of a car next to us? -- and we moved on. 

The Not Boyfriend is indeed my boyfriend. I jokingly gave him that alias waybackwhen, after I read his face when someone called me his girlfriend: "Ohhhh, you're one of those who doesn't need labels," I teased, he nodded and smiled. But he is every bit my boyfriend.

Lil E has seen us kiss and hold hands and I've been open about being madly in love with this man who is edging closer and closer to our everyday lives. So he knows those parts well.

We've opted to handle the situation and each other and Lil E carefully, taking his visits and the information-sharing slowly. He sleeps on the couch when he's in town. He'll have his own place for plenty of time when he moves to our city. Even though the three of us are familiar with each other, we are still on the third date or so of this whole triangular relationship.

But, yes, the Not Boyfriend is very much my boyfriend, the man who is my greatest friend and a divine smoocher. 

Lil E gets it. I heard it in his question. And as the definition of what we are and how we are  expands -- the NB and me, as well as the NB and me and Lil E -- so must the questions and clarifications. I answered quickly on this one. But I will let the rest sink in slowly and trust he'll speak up when there's more to process.

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15 things I learned at the Bristol Renaissance Faire

I thought the depths of geekdom I'd go to as a parent would be the Ninjago Lego level or perhaps the dungeons where mothers debate which color light sabers each Star Wars character wields. I didn't realize I would ever willingly, excitedly go to a renaissance fair. But I did. And I liked it.

Before you get all crazy-thinking that I dressed as a wench and spoke in Middle Age-y terms, know that driving out to the fields of Wisconsin was as far in that direction as I was willing to go. I traded in wedge sandals for flip-flops, brandished suncreen from my leather belt and tucked snacks inside my corset. I swear that's the extent. 

Bristol Renaissance Faire invited the boy and I and a few friends to experience opening weekend of it's 25th anniversary season. We headed north, near Kenosha, Wisconsin, where we were assured we'd join the mud beggars (what are those?) and swashbucklers (seen enough Johnny Depp in eyeliner to get that one) and jousters (ooh, giant pokey stick thingies) and steampunk bagpipers (interesting) for a day of rides, shows and old-timey talking. 

Here's what I learned from a day at the Faire:

1. People do really dress up for this thing. Like in full horse-head hats and eight layers of robes in 100-degree weather.

2. Staring at these people is the most fun part of the experience.

3. If you ever happen upon a dead or dying squirrel, chicken or racoon, you can always taxidermy the carcass to carry around on your shoulder at the Faire. You won't be alone PLUS you will be super animal-afterlife-friendly. Perhaps a little stinky and crazy-looking when you step out into the 7-11 on the trip home, but inside the gates, you will be magnificent.

4. If you don't have dead animals, colored snake=eye contacts, reversible corsets, feather caps, real swords or machetes, or a Star Trek outfit, feel free to fashion yourself a Coors Lite costume out of the cardboard boxes from several dozen cases you've so valiantly consumed in the name of "getting in character."

5. Dragon's blood = ketchup.

6. Sassafras = rootbeer + licorice. And it is delicious. And only a dollar.

7. Apparently, gelato, tempura broccoli, pizza rolls and frozen dacquiris were part of the hearty cuisine Englanders in 1574 enjoyed alongside gigantic turkey legs and mushrooms simmering in garlic on a cauldron.

8. That dragon WILL eat you.

9. Should you need to rush to follow Robin Hood and his Merry Men, yell out repeatedly, "MAKE ROOM FOR THE DRAGON!" and people will, in fact make room for your cranked-up motorized scooter bedecked as a dragon.

10. You will need extra cash to pay for the spinny rides and jumpy rides and skill-testing games and face-painting that are all operated by Faire staffers and men who traveled through time to wrap you in a bench with twine and then crank you up into the air and laugh as they let go and you think you may possibly fall off and die on the ground next to an onlooker who really thinks he's the court jester.

11. The fire-whipcracker guy is pretty awesome. Also? Hot. But, hot in that "it's a thousand-degree oven out here and the guys blowing flames from his mouth out toward the audience" kind of way.

12. You won't need to videotape anything. There are plenty of other people in the audience taping the juggler and the comedic acrobats, and it is highly likely you can track down the highlight reel on YouTube or some D&D message board somewhere.

13. Your feet will be covered in dirt and dust. It will not come off for days. Don't sweat it. 

14. Sunburn is likely.

15. You will have a great time. I mean it, GREAT. You will laugh, you will poke fun of people only slightly geekier than you, you will drink buckets of sassafras concoctions, you will cheer during the jousting championships, you will watch your kid love it, and you will have a really great time.

Bristol Renaissance Faire provided the tickets to this event; I provided the review. For your own tickets to the event, open through Labor Day Monday, visit renfaire.com.

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