40+ bags... of clothes...?

My this year's 40 bags in 40 days decluttering mission, is over. By defenition, that is, but far from in reality. Just like every of the previous years I stay on the mission of getting rid of yet another bag every day.

Just in case you have missed out on what 40 bags in 40 days is about, here is the challenge ecplained:

The 40 Bags in 40 Days challenge typically happens during Lent, but you could do it any time of year. For 40 days, you commit to decluttering one bagful of stuff from your home each day. After 40 days, you will have decluttered a ton of stuff!

For 40 days I follow fellow declutterers on facebook, blogs and podcasts, and pat myself on my shoulder for beeing good too. Some times I brag about my progress and tell them I am pleased. Other times I just post a sigh.

Although... some of those women, and a very few men, go bananas and hire crazy big containers and attack their long protected and designated clutter like nuts.

They post before and after photos of their house, and get feedback from strangers, who in a strange way become an allied cheering squad, friends and supporters. We follow eachother's ups and downs in all kinds of everyday happenings.

I have cleaned up, and sorted out, my wardrobe, pretty OK. I still have lots there I never wear, but there's no longer fear involved when I need to find something to wear. I used to be afraid piles of folded clothes would fall and bury me.

I have rearranged my furniture, and I think my new arrangement has created a tiny bit of more space. More floor to move on, easier to clean. and shedded fur from my dog can no longer hide... it's all good. Not only does it look better, but there is something calming about knowing my house is a better place than it used to be. Better in the sense of not overwhelming to take on when I tidy up or have to clean.

Cleaning is a constant struggle because of furniture and their legs. Chairs and odd bits of furniture skattered about, really hinder my mop. But not anymore.

Anyway. My 40 days, through lent, have yet again been good to me and my house.

Only... do you find that in the middle of tidying up and cleaning, the house looks worse than ever?

I look around and find complete chaos. Even now, months later.

In my head I have this vision of what it will turn out to be like, but somehow I just can't get to the point when things just land in place

I am not a hoarder, but I have never been able to throw perfectly fine things away. I might need them, some day, and in my head I have this idea it would be really stupid to throw something away, and then go buy the exact same thing, only new.

I've not yet needed anything I've put away, though. I am soon 47 years old, and it may be time for me to accept that every thing had its time and use.

There is a good chance the thought sneaked upon me when I last week discovered I have no more room in my storage upstairs the carport.

And why would I want to keep a mattress which was never comfortable? I have 4 of those. They take up a lot of space.

My biggest trouble is my clothes. I have printed checklists on how to do it, but never can bring myself to really, truly, devote myself to execute.

I have hardly ever thrown away attire... which means I have even 30 years old garment in my wardrobe, which never looked good in the first place.

In every other aspect of my life I am a pragmatic. And it hurts I have not yet learned to be, and act, logical about clothes. I never wear most of what is in my closet, nor do I think about it a lot, but when it comes to getting rid of it I can stand in front of this insuperable mass of fabric and colours and I can't find anything to get rid of.

Paradoxically I always have problems what to wear. I usually blame my body being too big, too curvy, too pale... but it's not the case, really. It's more a question of how the amount makes it a hotchpotch, rather than a lucid selection of items to wear.

I really want to dress and accessorize, and apply the philosophy to my personal appearance that my family can feel proud I belong in their pack. I don't feel they can now, even though I know they are generous enough to do so.

It has come to the point I understand this affects my family, my house and my state of mind. I understand there is a need I become an Upholder. I need to stay tidy and cut back so we all can feel that the effects ground us all and allow our home to spark joy for my family and me. I have friends who would really like to take on some of it. Friends who can't afford to just go out and buy a new outfit. I have a friend I would trust to go through it all, leaving only what she thinks becomes me, but it is hard to ask for help. In a strange way that makes me even more vulnerable.

It is hard to be a strong person when it comes to that: being exposed. Even when it comes to friends you trust.

I read an article about Marie Kondo where she stated: “Tidying is the act of confronting yourself; cleaning is the act of confronting nature.”

I think I just have to do just that. Soon. Sometime in the near future.

We all dress accordingly: a bit of flamboyance a bit of sincerety.

When all is said and done, and the ring has come completed; we are ready for a new school year.
Grades have been set, we got the results of a long season's hard work and the only thing we look forward to is the vacation we get, knowing no long list of handed in files will have to be graded during nights and weekends.
This is when we fall apart, regain composure and slowly find the excitement to get started anew.
We have exams every year, sometimes it is more draining to us, than it is to the students.
Hope, nerves, excitement and disappointment, all at the same time, do take its toll.

To celebrate all of this, and to celebrate those of our coworkers who leave, for whatever reason, and those who have had an anniversary, we have one last gathering and then a big lunch.

The fun, unexpected twist this year, was a concert by the artist Tommy Fredvang. We knew he had been entertaining at the graduation ceremonies, and rumor had it he was ever so cheeky about our principal's red pants. Which we love!, by the way, but which we understand can catch anybody off guard. (I love that even more!) To me, those pants represent us as a school and staff. We are teachers.

Anyway, we understood fairly early on that this was going to be a concert with the theme "love lost".
Which could have become a mushy seance, but added a healthy portion of irony, sarcasm and jokes became a rather enjoyable time.

I just couldn't stop myself from thinking how young he is. Quite pleasant to look at, and fairly well dressed always helps. He appeared not too flamboyant, and not too sincere... just a healthy combination of the two. But to me he was first and foremost just very young. And funny.

Love takes many forms. Some times we mistake other affections and excitements for a romantic kind of love.
This summer I have been married for 24 years, to the same man. (Maybe he being away so much has something to do with that. Maybe it is all his credit, but we are still a couple.)
Back then I was young, and perhaps funny. And I thought that love would stay young, and new, as well. I thought that as long as I chased for forever living in delightful bliss, our sensation of being in love would be kept alive.
It doesn't.

I was fortunate to fall in love with my future husband in spite of a lot of things: it was 1986 and the cool guys had long hair with perm... among other strange fashion features. His hair was down to his waist, and yes: he, unlike me, had hair which took to perm very well! Today he has no hair at all... it is safe to say he has nothing but improved with age.

Through time, changes, weight and sickness he loves me. Some days in the quiet way, which holds no other joy than the assurance he accepts I have major flaws. Other days he is proud to be at my side.

Anyway, Tommy (I find that someone trigging that kind of soulsearching pondering must accept being called by his first name) sang and played one cheesy, sad lovesong after another. Very sentimental, and as it turned out fit for food for thoughts.

It was a great concert, regardless his theme.
Maybe it was his ongoing comments about our principal's pink pants. Maybe it was his honest sound with vocals and acoustic guitar, no room for hiding any notes out of key(... he had very few).
Perhaps it was his cover version of Ed Sheeran's Thinking out loud, maybe it was "Vampyrane", "Love is running low" or maybe it was my slight disappointment he didn't perform any Justin Bieber song... I mean, anyone who can bring Wham's old hit "Careless whisper" into a new and enjoyable era, can make decent music worth listening to, of anything musical, which has been wrecked before.
I would rather enjoy that, I think.

There is a good chance he thought we would be square and boring. Well, for anyone who hasn't encountered a crowd of teachers outside the classroom, I tell you a secret:
Square and boring just doesn't cut it. If you want to be a good teacher you need to be a bit of everything and everybody.

We were so happy it's last day at work we laughed just he asked how we were doing.
But on any everyday we are updated, easy going, good... no: great! at what we do and how we perform our work. We are firm, yes, yet we listen, show respect and show lenience. Our best feature is variety, and down the list of character treats you should have as a teacher you will find: remember variety is spice of life.

We deal with both hard working, serious students who strive to get good results and achieve both understanding and knowhow, and we deal with rascals who have spent years of their life to learn how to appear careless.
No day is boring, even though some days are hard.
(Some days, I admit, I hope one or two don't show up, just because I am tired... but they always show. And I love that about them.)
At one point Tommy wondered what we did to our students, who chose to stay behind, talking for hours, after the graduation.

We put on a show every day, and in that respect we are much like artists. The core is: We care. We show them that it matters to us they do well. And by doing well, I don't mean they should get top grades; I want them to become the best version possible of themselves. That is a form of love as well.

And we are not afraid to dress accordingly our job. With flamboyant sincerity.

What's weighing down

Both my older brothers picked up the hobby of photography when they were teenagers. Today they are very competent and able photographers, and immortalize those moments we regret we forgot. A flower forcing its way through the paved sidewalk, a sunset, a cup of coffee an early morning...

They bought all the equipment needed to develope the pictures themselves, and I remember how they painted lightbulbs red and occupied our spaceous bathroom for hours experimenting with printing lights, developing baths, fixture and developing time. 

Everything was a potential motif, but I somehow often found myself in the strangest of situations because... well, because I was there and easy to order around so they could get the picture they wanted. 

There are numerous pictures stacked somewhere in a box, of me, in black and white. 

Looking at pictures from my childhood, I can tell I was not the most slender kid around, but I was what I would say a normal, healthy and active kid.

As a teenager I turned into a slender and strong young woman; moulded by hard work and an active lifestyle. 

Now, at 44, I am distressed. I feel my children's childhood have been limted because of their overweight mother.

Every summer we seem to end up visiting amusement parks, waterparks and other sporty sites, and I always end up watching what an amazing time they have together, my family, while I watch our stuff and wait.

20 years ago I was up for everything. No challenge was too scary or too hard to at least try.

That was 30 kilos ago. Now I worry my weight will cause speed, direction.... things, you know?, to get all out of control. I am too big to feel funny when I fail.

When I watch commercials on tv, I notice big people are only used as actors when they are promoting a diet, and they show a photoshopped after picture... Or when the person is silly, sorry or a huge failure.

I have been afraid to go on a diet, worried I will fail. I have been afraid to exercise regularly, worried I will give up. I have comforted myself thinking I can still tie my own shoes without sitting down. 

And then I read this:

And then I realized.... most women want to be "perfect" the acceptable way. Just like flawless models that we see on ads or tv shows... I know people who say I am pretty the way I am, and then they always add some of my qualities, not my looks.

And then I think to myself that I am not history yet. I am not bygone. I refuse to call myself old, even though I recognize how I each year discover changes in me.The hope that the changes can be good never dies.
I am more tolerant, I see more of the whole picture. My personality improves, I think, and I really try to accept myself as I am. And even though this is clear to me in a flash of insight I have to admit that in everyday I don't see that. I am not the carefree girl more than willing to be photographed. I am very self conscious because of all my imperfections.

And then I think about women I see every day; women who don't look like models or actresses, and how I vision them is less important to me, than the feeling thinking about them gives me. Each of them has this different aura and charm around her... and thats when I realize, that everyone has their own beauty. It doesn't matter if you're not born perfect. If you take away, photoshop and remove, the imprefections, there's not much left of who you are.

I should participate more, I should offer more of myself to people around me, being big should not make me feel less good for others. And making an effort is really admirable and so much more attractive, opposed to the mere giving up and stop caring.
And I think that starting to feel better about my own worth could make sporting vacations more enjoyable, and chocolate less of a friend.

Rachel put it like this, after she posted a photo on facebook and got unexpected response:

Dodging a good advice

It is such a strange, and yet liberating, feeling when you are alone in a room and you read something which just makes you roar with laughter. Like a manifestation of your inner craziness. Just now I read a status on Facebook which brought back memories of a rather dramatic situation, but which now, in the aftermath, is hysterically funny.

A wonderful friend of mine was listening to the radio where a famous, Norwegian stylist recommended using hemorrhoids cream to cure baggy eyes.

There were no instructions given on how to use it, how long or how often he recommended using it. It was just a remark, really, on how to get rid of those unwelcome signs of late nights spent in marvellous decadence.

She posted this status on Facebook:

Dear, dear Jan Thomas. Since I post this in public I reckon you will read it. You once recommended using hemorrhoids cream to reduce bags under my eyes. You seemingly forgot to tell how much to apply. So I applied a really heavy layer before I went to bed (I had gone through one of those tearful days of crying and the bags under my eyes were really conspicuous). Well, I woke up the next morning (the bags were smaller, I give you that) but in return I looked as if I had been given a serious direct hit on both eyes. Two solid black eyes glared back at me when I looked in the mirror. And I looked like that for two full weeks. Do feel free to send me “user’s manual”

Love “me”.

I remember the incident very well, and it is true she looked severely beaten up. She didn't leave the
house for two weeks, and wore sunglasses on rainy days… and we all know who does that! Women having occurrences with butt lotions are not quite what springs to mind…

Looking back we all, she included, agree she could have tried out a few less extreme home remedies before going for the ultimate panacea, but in all fairness it WAS a remedy uttered by a highly respected expert on looks, beauty and style.

Well, hemorrhoids cream on the thin and sensitive skin under your eyes was maybe not the best advice to go public with. Not when impulsive women like my friend follow them, in their own manner (and I'm sure my friend is not the only one.... then again: she is one of a kind). Conducted with great care and prudence I am sure it can save the day after, in an (social) emergency.

I can’t help but mentioning that this particular stylist have had another beauty-advice-fail:

There was a stunt on the radio: celebrities were invited to a week’s work placement. Jan Thomas thought it was fair that since he was working as a radio host for a week, the radio host, Michael Andreassen, should get a glimpse of his world of beauty, looks and style. So, Michael agreed to get some Botox and Restylane done. It wouldn’t be a problem to try it out, he thought, so he went to the clinic and asked for “the works”.

As it turned out this was not a very smart thing to do: He was given a total of between 70 and 90 injections in the face, which gradually began to itch and swell. Then came the fever and he ended up being hospitalized; getting liquid antibiotics several times a day.

He had no wrinkles after the treatment, he had to give Jan Thomas that, but his entire forehead was motionless. Not even a hint of frowning, when he really tried.

At a talk show Jan Thomas told that he had never experienced anything like that using Botox himself, but admitted that smaller touch ups sometimes had given unexpected consequences. He’d gotten a black eye, but that's all.

Being famous and an expert can be dangerous, because regardless of what you say people will listen. And since we are human (and I admit this might be a characteristic property belonging to one of the genders) we may say we listen, but we only hear what we want to hear; short-listing and selecting which words we hear, and which ones we choose not to recognize. And we comprehend what is said the way we want to… and sometimes we end up following our own version of what was a good advice to begin with.

Now, I have read and listened to every word he said about this, and hence his propensity to give (semi-) good advice and these above mentioned incidents, I have to say that when Jan Thomas says that exercise and a healthy lifestyle is the best option to obtain a healthy, good looking body, like his own...,

I wonder if I should follow his advice and make an effort or if I should dodge working out and keeping a healthy diet all together…?

Women's Liberation to a halt?

Being a woman is really hard. In many ways it is harder than it used to be before. I do acknowledge and appreciate all the aids we got nowadays; it’s not as physically demanding to do everyday chores anymore. I am grateful we have running water, laundry machines, electricity and everything else we install in our houses which makes house chores still a little time consuming (and it’s time consuming only because it has to be done, not because it takes a lot of time to actually do them) but not really straining.  We now have a different kind of pressure which to some becomes so overwhelming they run their lives by it: Appearance!

A survey done in Norway reveals that at least 50 000 women suffer from some kind of eating disturbance. 15% of 17-year old girls in our capital are underweight. Half of the girls in high school have tried to lose weight, or are currently on a diet.

Surgeon, or injections, to change looks are more and more common within all groups of society and age. And the guys fall into line in increasing number. So called beauty corrective procedures are spoken about as more normal, and a far more preferred solution, than acceptance of nature’s course and beauty of the human body.

The desire to be both thin yet (to some extent) curvy (not so curvy it is hard to get into fashion brand clothes, though) is greatly encouraged by the many who make money on selling us low self-confidence.

As a result of this, the survey I mentioned also say that the girls feel they have to spend twice as much time on their appearance than they do on homework and reading.

If you don’t live it just trust me: it’s hard and it’s never good enough! We try to be up to standards nobody really knows, set by… nobody knows. The rules to what and who is beautiful changes, like a forever ongoing urban legend.

It is as if what we suspect others think, when they see us, is what defines us as individuals. I know that it is very fashionable to pursue happiness more than anything else. But we are so desperate to show our happiness we forget to take a real good feel and think about how we really are. All those brave smiles on perfect faces seldom reach and beam through glittering eyes.

I know for a fact I am not alone in feeling the pressure of visual happiness. I am not the only one who is tired of newspapers, magazines and TV series telling me what happiness really is, how to become happy and how to be even more happy. And the recipe to happiness seems to be the same for everybody, even though we all know, deep inside, that’s far from the case. Nobody can really tell how to measure happiness anyway. The expectations and demands I face on how to lead a happy life sometimes give me a feeling of failure, even though I know I am ok.

Deep inside I know I am lucky because I can handle being miserable and sad for a while, and appreciate unexpected moments of pure happiness.

On the other hand I don’t post pictures of myself either. I don’t show off to the world, maybe in fear of what “they” might say if my love handles, double chin or not so perfectly plucked eyebrows show too well. I am far from perfect: I fall into the same pit “everybody” else does.

And then I start thinking how stupid it is to let what others may or may not think limit myself, even the least. And then I get into thoughts about how arrogant I am to think like that. As if I’m not part of the world, or that I’m perfect or something. If I wasn’t at all affected or influenced by what’s going on around me, and to my fellow-beings, I would have been a sole island, which I’m not.

It is so sad that even when you are the best at something, it is never good enough, because you should have been equally good at something else.

I think that girls throughout the entire western world struggle to find courage to talk in class, meetings and gatherings because they know everybody’s eyes will turn their way as soon as they open their mouths. Some will measure and study, not only their body but also how they dress, how they talk and their gestures.

As a result of this there is less challenges on the structures of power established in our society, and we miss out on a lot of good thoughts and ideas which could have improved society as well as business.

Feminist is an insult and women who speak up to fight the unreasonable demands women face are called ugly and jealous.

We like to think that we have come a long way as far as Women's Lib is concerned. But when we let what others say about food, working out, make up, clothes and how it all affect us run our lives, how real is the liberation?

I like to think that if I just try to forget what I look like, act and talk I am actually pretty skilled... and good at it!

Own your beauty in your own way

Getting older

He says hi, probably because he considers me to be an old, long not seen friend. Or maybe he is just curious what has become of me.
I don`t really feel I know anything about this partially bald man in wrinkled clothes from a long, hot day; fine lines carved in his face in the corners of his eyes, distinguished grey  at his temples and around his ears.
He looks like an adult, a dad, a someone in an office. Still there is something from the boy he used to bein his appearance.

I wonder if I look as old as he does.
It is hard to believe I`m forty... still only fortytwo, not turning fortythree untill September.

The way I feel, it`s hard to believe there`s not a younger me somewhere out there: A me still slim, fit, ripped jeans and cheeky T-shirts.
It`s the enticing past. A past even better than what it actually was. I know I often look at myself in younger years through pink shades, but I like the idea of it being nothing but good times.

I believe it`s like that for all of us. We wish to go back in time, to a time when we were happy. Or more correctly:  time we imagine we were happier than we are today. We tend to forget what hard work it is to be young.
Some times I can`t stand the thought of not being young anymore. I don`t feel much different, and some times, when I pass a mirror and get a glimpse of myself, I wonder how, what, who and when it happened. Why didn`t anyone tell us we would feel exactly the same now as we did when we were eighteen?
Not that it would matter any: we probably wouldn`t believe them.

I thought that when I turned forty I would have... settled down more, in a way.
You know: live a content and boring life. Staying at home every night, never fall in love, and be satisfied living that kind of life.

Then again...: being settled and living that boring, predictable life makes me capable of making things happen. I travel where and how I want to, I can afford to dress how I want (and I am financially comfortable enough to dress down; cheap and out of fashion, if I please), I am now able (timewise, moneywise and familywise) to take riding lessons for my driver`s lisence for heavy motorcycle, I can buy a motorbike which is actually in an ok con  dition, I can go for a walk at any hour of the day without telling anyone or explaining myself to anybody.

I have become a woman who flips the pillow several times during night, so I can sleep on the cool side. I have reached the point in life when I critically measure my "lovehandles", wondering if I should leave them alone, or pick up on the challenge to get rid of (most of) them.
I read my life in my scars and imperfections and wonder if I would want them to be gone.

Regardless of everything: Deep inside I still think exiting things will happen, though.
You never know...

Getting ready for spring... ehm..

The sun is shining, it is freezing cold outside, but ever so lovely. One should think that everything is frozen, due to the -4° Celsius, but it’s not. Sitting outside on the stairs in my garden… freezing my bum off and hands shaking so much I at some point was worried I would spill all my coffee, I can see that the crocus, the hyacinths, the daffodils and the snowdrops sprout. A true sign of spring and new life to nature, which has been dormant for the last few months.

Spring, the most optimistic season of the year, is just around the corner. That means that we have to start thinking about how to dress when temperatures rise and both nature and people thaw.

We will no longer wear thermo overalls, excellent for hiding, or huge scarves to cover up that extra double chin; once again we try to avoid showing off what we made such great effort to hide last year.

Every year, when I go shopping for Christmas presents, I find stunning dresses and outfits I would really like to wear to the various Christmas arrangements and parties. But when I take a quick look in the windows I pass, I have to admit they would probably not fit me… or, of course they would fit me in the right size, but the right size is not the size I want them in. So I decide I will get something just as lovely and becoming next year, when my size is the size I want to buy them in. (I am NOT desperate enough to buy the clothes two sizes too small, and keep them for the future day when they fit… but the thought have crossed my mind.)

Problem is: When that lovely piece of clothing has been mourned and I have comforted myself with a coffee mocha and I have found both a couple of presents AND bought another big, dark tent I can imagine makes me look stunning. I am done with the grief over my poor state.

In addition; Our summer is basically a lot of rain and an occasional fortunate day with temperatures above 20 degrees celsius. Swim and beachwear is not really a big issue here, neither is getting your body in shape for beach life. :-(The thing about me not being all wrinkled up yet, is not careful skincare, it is all about being frozen and not getting exposed too much to sunshine.

In lack of real inspiration I forget all about self-discipline and the desire to look dashing. Society is so full of body images based on lies I just choose not to pay attention. It is all unattainable standards anyway.  At least to average women, like myself.

This has become somewhat of a pattern over the last 12 years. Everyday life traps you, and you fall into same old habits you had before.

Not necessarily because it is preferred or really wanted; You do it because you know the strategies you have developed over years, work; They allow you to get things done, and changes in your habits might interfere and interrupt your well planned strategy on how to get time.

Knowing this, I still reached the point when “something” had to change. That something was me. My mood was down, my self-confidence was low, my me-time was non-existent, thousand thoughts buzzed around in my head, and I just never got the time to sort them out and get done with. All in all I figured I was not a very pleasant person to be around, let alone live with.

So what did I do? I invested in the coolest pair of NIKE running shoes ever! The downside is that given the ridiculous prize I have to use them.

So I started off walking really fast four nights a week to gradually learn how to jog. Not only was it BORING it was also so cold my hands and thighs turned numb (Still is, by the way). Not funny, no fun... if it wasn't for the insanely expensive shoes I would NEVER keep it up.... but I did, I do.

Americans talk so proudly about their 3-mile run, so I figured a 3-mile run on a regular basis would be a nice goal. And you know what? It is not that hard! And every time it takes a little less time to complete.

I am not going to extend the distance I run. I need to come home feeling I could have run longer. I need to want to do it next time as well, and for me this works.

Personal trainers often have a lot of good suggestions and mantras. Well they are personal trainers for a reason, and it has to do with lifestyle and interest. I don’t have their personality; I had to develop my own strategy within the reach of my own potential. Pointing fingers really doesn’t work to scare me into a better lifestyle. I have to be left alone and figure out my command level for optimal conditions of life.

 

If it comes to a point when you understand you are not in a good place, and it doesn’t work for you to be around same old, then you must figure out a way to do something about it... or.... at least you will want to, and that is how you start changing what is not good in your life.

Life on the sunny side...

I was so provoked today reading an interview with a celebrity billionaire's wife and at home mum. I could literaly feel exasperation fuming inside, feeling she was patronizing the average mum because we don't do well enough.

She stated that she thinks she sees far too many mums who give up when they get a child. She doesn't think that is healthy. The body requires even more work out as you get older. You just have to get a grip and pull yourself together. She gave an outline of her life as an at home mum to a 9-months old daughter. Highlighting how she maintained herself and her body, and the help she got from help in the house (cleaner), au pair and her own mother.

Maybe I am jealous, maybe I wish I was an at home mum with energy to get up and knit and have a cup of coffee at 5:30am... But I honestly don't think so. It is no secret I moan a lot about how my life sometimes feels like a constant roundabout. I feel stuck in a stress mess which never seems to slow down because new issues always appear on the stage of life. Being dead honest I have to admit I chose my own life: education, work, children, house, friends, lifestyle, values... I lay my own bed and frankly; I think that, in spite of everything, life is quite good.

BUT! There is always a "but". It is abnormal to be fully content, isn't it? There has to be some pebbles to even out the score. To be too happy in life would create a worry thet something must go wrong, and it will happen any time soon... In my mind I am thinking that the easy-life-mum probably have just as many problems to deal with as anyone else, they are just of another nature than mine.

So, if I can reconsider my priorities, shuffle my schedule about a bit, buy a new pair of shoes (I have no training shoes, so that alone is a BIG boost and motivation for what I am going to consider as a lifechange) and really make up my mind to be serious about it: I think I could do this. Don't think I will go over the top and set high goals; I have this notion that if I am to do something it must appear manageable both practically feasible and timewise.

After all: She is right! Mums should set off time time to work out more (or in many cases: to start work out and get some training fitted into their everyday life).

They say training create energy to cope better, and if I get this done my kids should benefit from it.

To not feel guilty for bodily decay, to get in shape and look better are all good reasons, but perhaps not the drive I need to follow it through.

Writing this I started feeling pretty pleased with the new born idea that all the clothes in my wardrobe, which I keep for later when they will fit, some time in the future, perhaps, by miracle, will fit me and look good IF I actually do this.

The best thing, perhaps, about it is that it creates a legal reason to get some time on my own. Noone nagging, noone calling my name, a perfectly acceptable reason to not answering the phone... in short: peace and quiet to clear my mind and sort things out in my head. Time to think things through, and get done with issues I ponder about, but never really get off my mind.

It never came up in the interview, but I think that the best reason to start working out would be to lighten my load, get it off my chest and carry on!!

a bodily work of art

Not long ago I heard about a man who was granted a substantial financial compensation and a divorce, in court, because his wife had not told him that she had gone through several plastic surgeries to get her looks.

 http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/weird-news/man-sues-wife-for-being-ugly-1415695

Suppose it was only a question of time untill this would happen. We have an old joke saying “This couple got married in Las Vegas, and the next morning the man died from an heartattack caused by shock: he woke up with a strange woman he had never seen before... during the night she had removed her make up”.

Well, make up, or “war paint” as my students call it (teenage boys can be gruesome in their judgements), has been around for centuries and is one of the more common accepted  ways to improve appearance.

We are so preoccupied with looks; So desperately chasing youth, that we choose to ignore what consequenses our actions might have, not only to ourselves but to those we include in our lives as well.

A quick search on the internet informed me that plastic surgery may sound appealing but:

· the procedures are costly.
· a considerable amount of time that is needed for recovery from some of the procedure
· risk that you might not be happy with the results
· there could be complications.
· Some of the cons or side effects are so dangerous and everlasting that they can even lead to death.
· risks of plastic surgery include wound commotion of overlying skin and infections.
· breast augmentation include bleeding of the gel, encapsulation and the prospect of loss of silicone in the body.
· liposuction include discoloration, depigmentation, numbness, bruising and pain.
· Facelift plastic surgery also involves various side effects such as nerve damage which makes the person's face insensible.
· mild side effects such as feeling pain in the affected part
· inflammation which can disappear with the time.

There are so many women and men out there with perfect curves and no wrinkles, looking stunning with every accessory right... apart from the non-existing smile. The personality hidden behind an expressionless face.

I understand why it is beautiful, but...

In my grandparents’ faces I always saw history written in every line, wrinkle and grey hair. The goodness of them beaming from their hundred different smiles.

Their worries and joys showing in their lines and wrinkles around their eyes.

I believe that life puts its mark on a person, both good and bad. Maybe it is a good thing to erase your past from your appearance, but I myself find something recognizable and soothing in that history. It is where I come from.

I also think I would be saddened if my parents altered their looks because they did not like their features.... which they passed on to me.

Through the years we have seen, in media, how devastating the outcome of plastic surgery can be, but the drive to look good makes us still wanting to take the risk. Because, after all, there are some great results as well.

Personally I know seven people, who I mingle and talk with on a regular basis, who have gone through gastric surgery in order to lose weight. Two of them even gained weight in order to qualify for the operation.

I think about it as medicine has made it possible for them to avoid taking action on their own lack of self dicipline.

Then, because their weightloss is so extreme, they get surgery to remove the tracks the weightloss caused. Stomach, back, thighs, arms and boobs are tucked in, tightened and sculptured to become as perfect as can possibly be.

In all fairness and honesty it is not my problem, not an issue I should preoccupy myself with. Their lives and doings are their concern and yet it affects me in ways I never expected:

We used to have good talks about nothing and everything. Now it seems like every topic can be related to bodysize, size in clothes, scars, elastic bandages and gordles. And calories. Not lack of calories in food and diets, but the relief they can eat anything delicious with no thoughts on the risk of gaining weight.

The other day I talked to someone who have chosen the opposite solution to how to both rebel against the commercial ideal  of what a body should look like and commercial dieticians.

ok, I have been watching body building posing... I am soooooo, soooooo glad we all have different hobbies. Even way back when I had a fairly ok body I never displayed myself with such ease... and never to anyone else than friends at the beach. But.... it is still fascinating to watch... I think I discovered my triceps too (as I in secret tightened a couple of muscles.. just to compare, of course, not the posing drill)!

Bodybuilders have their own standards to what a body should look like. The sculptured muscles with defined lines and proportions are goals reached by dicipline, hard work, time and dedication.... and fake tan.

In my world this has always been some kind of a shady sport, not even worthy being called a sport, with lots of illegal drugs and methods connected to the miljeu. At least that is what we hear, when it is talked about. We know better, don’t we? Effective methods of cheating can be found in all kinds of human lifestyles.

I have to admit that a fit and toned body does look better than my pale, untrained self. I suppose we were not really made to live lives as couch potatoes... I think perhaps it is time to find my own golden compromise.

“Beautiful young people are accidents of nature, But beautiful old people are works of art”

~ Eleanor Roosevelt ~

Bodily Moneymachine

I am not an activist, I hardly ever raise my voice to argue, I never participate in demonstrations, but I just feel I need to get something off my chest.

Here in Norway we have this outrageously beautiful artist called Tone Damli Aaberge. Since she came second on the show Idol, she has really established herself as a singer/artist to be reckoned with.

However, lately there has come across quite a bit of criticism towards her , as she has released musicvideos of a rather sensual nature.

Now, the use of body to escalate sales of a product is nothing new. In fact; it is an undisputed fact that sex sells.

 I am not going to be a prude or anything, but I do have to say that it is hard to listen to her, and her fiancè, as they try to prove the criticism wrong.

The arguments they stated was that: “I think it is a great way to bring focus to my music. In fact I would like to see more artists undress! I just think it is an expression of envy to my success!”  He, as he pulled up his t-shirt, stated that “If I do this, noone will react to it. Besides: The ones critisising the videos are women, it is women only who have a problem with her videos!”

So, she feels she needs to display her body in order to draw attention to her music? In my world what really is the case is that she produces her own backgroundmusic to her appearance. I am not so sure they would be quite as confident if they could hear what teenagers say about her... and I mean her, not her music, which is hardly ever commented upon.

Of course only women object: I work with men and among teenage boys. I dress down every day at work trying to avoid being measured and commented upon. If I get a compliment it is not because I have done a good job, but because something in my appearance has changed. And by the short time it takes, from I enter untill I get the comment, I know that is the first thing they do as I arrive.

Women must do better and achieve more to get the same credit men get. We often have jobs far more challenging, but get paid less. We face prejudices every day, which men and other women  unconsiously (I hope) expose us to. And it is hard to come to terms with a lot of it, as a lot of it is personal. People think that it is socially accepted to comment on a person’s body.

I simply hate comments like: oh, you have lost weight, that cut really makes your waist look slim, your legs look like a mile long in those boots... how dare they!

The comments the couple made on the criticism of the musicvideo just adds to the general approval of judging women, and their achievements, based on appearance. I wish they had stepped out of their own comfortzone, listened to people outside their own circle, it would be like a realitycheck on what is going on.

If she wants to make money on her music, and finds semi-nudity does the trick: by all means. Do so! Heaven knows many others do. But be honest about it. Say that is the case, just tell the world: Yes, I sell more music undressed than I do when dressed, I don’t care as long as I make money, so that is just great!

I think that if you use your skills and stay true to your personality to create the best version of yourself, then you will turn into a great person and you will achieve great results.

I believe that people pick up immediately when you are not confident in your appearance or attitude. When you are not honest about what you do, well you just don’t win in the long run.
 

It is not the right thing to do, for everybody, to support women's fight to be taken seriously out there. Still, there is no reason to stigmatize those who do by making fun or ascribe them petty motivations... like envy.

playing on my half of the field

I am blessed to have friends who represent all layers of society.

It is not so (or at least I don’t find it to be true) that we need to have a lot in common to get along well; the most important thing is to respect the fact that we all, each and every one of us, has made choices and live by them. Sometimes we do not feel we have a choice, but at the end of the day there is. We make decisions all the time; Some serve us well, and others bring difficulties into our everyday life we never asked for, but which still bring us grief, or at least render more difficult hinders.

I love people who do not fit into reputable boxes defined by society. I like it when people stand out and are true to themselves and who they are. It is not easy to be “different” but I admire the bravery.

And yet, I have a couple of friends who really annoy me. We have had heated conversations on their lifestyle versus mine.

When we part, it really irks me how they make sense even though I so wish they were wrong. I go through our conversations with a wry smile on my face and just snigger. I love them to pieces, and I really think they think the world of me, but I will never admit to how lovely I think they are.

So, what is it about these friends which irritates me? They are cross-dressers, or transvestites if you will, and they look gorgeous! Becoming colours on both hair and clothes: so bright and festive it is annoying. What they wear always has a great cut and their make-up is always flawless: hands and nails are done to perfection and their shoes and handbag are just as thought through as their nail polish, lipstick and blush rouge.

Bugger me! I am the woman, I am the one who should be stunning and behave like a lady. I am the one who should make heads turn…

I think that being a woman should include a gene for impeccable taste in style.  

Instead I face shuttering defeat every time I meet up with these friends and go out for a meal. I have reached the point where I have to deal with competition from heterosexual men who look better than me, when they look like women.

The mistake of having a bad look.

For so many years now I have been lost in the magnitude of everything life has thrown my way. I do not think this is something I alone experience; I think we all, to some extent (some more than others, I am sure) find ourselves in that situation.

One day after another just slides into an indefinite time of same old, and we need to think hard to find those little things we find special enough to smile at.

In this process we tend to let ourselves down. The moments of pampering ourselves to charge the batteries and to feel good about ourselves tend to lose priority, as we, in the middle of running race with time, seem to think “I can do it later, it is not as if I will misplace myself. I will be here to be attended to later, but THIS is something I have to do now”.

When we are down and tired it takes more to bring us to the verge of laughter than when we are up and live with a bubble of contentment inside. A bubble just growing more and more into the state of joy, feeding off whatever brings warmth and beauty into our life. It can be anything from a bright flower surviving and showing off in a ditch, to a clean and tidy countertop in our kitchen.

I made up my mind to change what I felt stole my years. I would look around seeing all these stunning women, older than myself, and I had just let myself go at a much younger age. I was wearing myself out thinking I had put myself on hold, letting myself down, not allowing my family to be proud of a mum looking the way she felt. Cause I knew I had a core of something good going for myself. In example: I like my eyes, the color of my eyes is quite nice. That should brought into focus. I just have to find out how, and then do something about it. I am not talking glamorous appearance. Just to look groomed and neat.

I wondered what it would take to become an image of me, who I am, what I stand for.

I have seen makeovers on TV and in magazines and what I see is women (and a few men) who, with small changes in make-up, hairstyle and clothes have maintained their expression but at the same time improved what signal they radiate to their surroundings in a much more positive way.

I am still in the process of researching my options.

There is one thing I know, though: I will not, never ever, do as 7 of my friends have done; I will not use surgery as a tool to improve.

Actually… our ordinary days are the product of our lifestyle. There is nothing wrong about that, but I think we do people around us a disservice if we look like something the cat dragged in from the alley. My only problem is the time issue... nothing really takes long, but when you have more than enough to tend to minutes count, a lot.

We make people we care about feel guilty about it. And guilty feelings never lead to any good. You can tell by all the well-meant comments like: “You should cut your hair shorter…”, “You would look lovely in a skirt like that…”, “That color really would make wonders on you…” And all you hear is nagging and criticism because you are too tired or too preoccupied to (mis-) understand the comments correctly.

For that reason alone I think we owe it to ourselves and to people around us to make an effort and take time to look as if we take care of ourselves too. To not do so would be a mistake, I think… At least that is what I think about that. Today, that is.

“Don't beat yourself up over past mistakes. Hold your head high and dry your tears. A new day is here”.
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