A Spandex-Free Diva

Back again after a whirlwind of fun, friends and festivities! In fact, I consider this to be the eye of the proverbial storm. It's December first and our calendar is already filled with events. Medium R is off to another birthday party after a great time at the movies earlier today with his "Auntie Schell". Big R and I are recuperating after two back to back galas, and well, Baby S is the only one to seem nonplussed at all the socializing around here lately. So as I rest my sore tootsies today after a night of inspired dancing in high heels I'm casting my mind back to the many Christmas parties and black tie events we've enjoyed attending over the past 10 years or more.

I have to share an observation about the whole fancy dress up thing with you. For over a year I've been living in slippers, jeans and comfy t-shirts. Twice this week I was stuffing my toes into pointy high heels and trying to cram my ass into a pair of Spanx body shaping panties about the size of my 6 year old son's boxer briefs. I even took it one step further by layering on a pair of control top panty hose- a girl can never be too careful I figured. And oh yes, let's not forget a nursing bra that was growing ever tighter as the evenings wore on.

Let me tell you boys and girls, there is only so much compression a girl can handle! Not only did I live in fear of something busting loose and injuring an innocent bystander, but I found myself wondering if our troops overseas could benefit from the technology created for use in the women's undergarment industry.

All this squeezing, molding, compressing got me to thinking about how we, as women, treat ourselves. When was the last time a man was concerned about cellulite or VPLs? As far as I know, no self-respecting man would be caught dead trying to shimmy, pummel and squeeze his derriere into a spandex under garment in order to make himself more appealing to the eye. Take a moment to build the mental picture - its worth it!

So why are we so ridiculous? Why are we willing to contort ourselves and sacrifice our comfort?Even those of us who are no longer in the market for a mate continue to jump through hoops in order to meet some kind of external standard of beauty. Why are we trying so hard to be something we are not - and calling that beautiful?

And who made up the rules anyway? I don't think a group of women sat down and dreamt up some of the outrageous standards that make up our cultural definition of beauty but a heck of a lot of them have not only taken those rules to heart, but have taken up the cause. Maybe all these control garments have cut off the circulation to our brains!

Like so many other nominalizations, beauty is just one more thing that means something different to everyone. Its unlikely that across all cultures, heck even amongst individuals, that we could ever completely agree on a definition of beauty. That is what makes it so unattainable. The bar is always being raised, the sands are always shifting and none of us will reach that fictional Utopia called "perfection". Unfortunately, some of us will actually die trying.

In our pursuit of external beauty, we can easily become distracted from the care and feeding of our souls - where, although some may consider it to be hokey, I happen to believe true beauty lies. Beauty is our essence and its our nature. Its our birth right. Underneath the layers of nylon and spandex, the makeup and hair products we are these incredible, beautiful spiritual beings. We are irrepressible in spite of our attempts to reign ourselves in. Imagine the Greek and Roman goddesses becoming completely absorbed in a hangnail, a snag in their robe or - gasp-a chin hair?! Our magnificence as goddesses in our own right by far eclipses those mythological creatures of beauty and power. And what are we paying attention to?! - certainly not the god forces we truly are!

Which brings this message even closer to home for me these days as I have been investing my attention in places that tend to compress my spirit. My connection to my soul happens through writing. Once again, I've let it take a back seat to the rest of my life. And once again, I notice myself descending to the level of thinking and acting that I like to call 'domestic slavery'.

No one puts me there. Its someplace I willingly go. I can so easily become completely mindless about this aspect of my life that it can take me a few weeks sometimes to wake up and notice that my life has taken on an aura of drudgery and I've developed a Cinderella Complex. Better than a few years or decades I suppose, but a waste of precious time and energy nonetheless. Although these commodities are abundant, why live like this if you can choose otherwise?

In the whirl of fun times with friends and family I have come to realize that my time to write is just as essential as any other vocation in our busy family. Rather than continue to pick up all of the slack in our household over the holidays, I've begun to ask for help. And these are becoming very detailed and specific requests. I've found that it isn't always sufficient to point someone in the right direction with the assumption that they know what it is that I'm asking.

I've also come to realize through a very insightful conversation with a friend, that what I might consider to be "bossy" is not necessarily how I am perceived through someone else's eyes. A set of specific instructions might just as easily be received with relief at not having to figure something out. And its not my job to guess at how someone else feels about my requests for help or to anticipate challenges and adapt my request before its even been uttered. All of which I have been so adept at doing that I don't even notice it happening.

This is spandex for the soul!! Sooner or later something will give and an innocent bystander will suffer the consequences! Where do you think the expression "she snapped" came from?! An expression I've heard uttered in hushed tones when no one thought I was listening, I might add!


Furthermore, why make myself uncomfortable and bent out of shape by pretending to be something that I'm not? I'm not an invincible domestic super hero (-although at times I think I come damn close!) I'm someone who loves a good time with family and friends, who adores all the trappings of Christmas and who must write in order to feed her soul - and if that means that my family needs to step up to the plate in order to enjoy all the comforts they have grown accustomed to (like hot meals and clean clothes!) then so be it!

As a self professed goddess, I intend to enjoy my life to the fullest without the restriction of a bunch of old habits. And that means that I'm making it up as I go along, asking for help and letting go of a bunch of old ways of thinking about myself that are simply too limiting. Bring on the cocktail parties, the meandering Christmas lunches and delightful coffee dates with friends. This diva plans to enjoy the holiday season making sure she takes care of her soul - learning to receive the love and support that comes from including family and friends in her pursuit of joy instead of assuming she always has to be the one to give it.

PS: If you too are ready to bust out of your spandex - real or metaphorical, I encourage you to share this link with another diva! Divas unite for a "spandex" free existence :)