This helmet versus pom poms battle is also striking the wrong chord with every gender chiche in the book. What is being implied with the blue helmet and the pink puffs?

This one versus the other situation is saying boys are quarterbacks and girls are cheerleaders. What does the quarterback do and what does a cheerleader do?

The quarterback is strong, athletic, fearless, the star of the team, the one who makes big plays, the one who gets all the attention on the field; on the other hand, the cheerleader doesn’t stand out — she is one of many, her role is the supporter not the star player, she cheers on the quarterback,  her role only exists if there is a sports star to rally behind (never the other way around), and she participates while being well-coiffed and shiny and perky while the quarterback is dirty and sweaty in his attempts to carry his team to victory.

I know, I’m such a buzzkill. I’m no fun to be around. Why can’t I just laugh and not always be so serious. I must be such a big bore. Well, that’s not true. There is a world out there that agrees with me. These assumptions are harmful. There are young girls who want to be quarterbacks. There are young boys who don’t want to be quarterbacks. I’m not saying they can’t be that … if that is what they want for themselves. But when we start loading these stereotypes and heaping the weight of them on a tiny pale, squishy newborn just because it has a penis or a vagina, it’s really restricting.

I want my kid to have a world of options. I want my kid to be free to be whatever he or she dreams is possible. I don’t want them to be stuck in this backwards binary where their hopes and fears are colored by pink and blue boxes and there is no escape from those confines. Gender reveal parties just heap every cliche on to a world that needs more self-expression not more restrictions on personality and skills. One day when I have a baby, I’m not going to say it’s a girl or it’s a boy ta-da. I’m going to say: It’s a human! That’s what we all are. There are way more things that unite us than divide us! And I’ll be stressing that from pre-day 1!

The point is that with technology today, we simply do NOT NEED to use these animals. And regardless of all the technology in the world, it is inhumane that a civilized country would abduct these creatures from their native worlds and families for the purposes of torture disguised as scientific research.

The NIH is accepting comments from the public on this issue. YOU CAN HAVE A VOICE IN THIS!!! Don’t just complain and say tsk, tsk, isn’t this awful? Fill out the email form. It doesn’t have to be long or eloquent. Just say the time to end this abhorrent practice is NOW.

Do it here.

You do not have to write in every single comments field, just one. And if you think it takes too long to fill this out or hit submit, imagine what a “long” amount of time feels like to someone trapped in a lab poked and prodded and put through hell ever day of their life!

To say I am excited about this movie is an understatement. I am thrilled that this is being made and the message for social change is spreading. I want all my book club ladies and my family and other friends to see this movie. I want MEN and boys to see this movie as much as women and young girls.  Go to the movie’s webpage and read more about the 10×10 campaign. Try and get the movie screened at a theater near you! I am!

Gender violence is one of the world’s most common human rights abuses. Women worldwide ages 15 through 44 are more likely to die or be maimed because of male violence than because of cancer, malaria, war and traffic accidents combined. The World Health Organization has found that domestic and sexual violence affects 30 to 60 percent of women in most countries.

This is 2013 people. We are raising young men and women to be the hope for a better tomorrow, and yet this is the truth of the world today. It is criminal, and yet all the criminals are going unpunished.

 Unless you live under a rock, I am sure you know who this person is.  That’s because everyone everywhere is talking about the boo-hoo athlete who was pranked or was part of a hoax or whatever. Exactly, whatever. Why are we even talking about him? Because he plays on one of the most prestigious football college teams in the country.  However, there is a lot more that happens at that school that is sadly left out of the front page news.

 But how many of you know who this is? This is Leezy Seeberg. She had loving parents. She had a brother and sister. She attended Notre Dame’s sister school, St. Mary’s.  Two years ago she was assaulted by a Notre Dame football player. She went to the police and they pretty much did nothing.  They didn’t even interview the accused until Lizzy killed herself.  I am not even going to try and attempt to describe how awful rape is, but to go through that and then have the courage to seek help from the law and then be denied is worse than adding insult to injury, it’s adding tragedy to tragedy. She was terrified because of text messages that threatened what might happen to her if she “messed with” Notre  Dame football.

AGAIN and AGAIN in this world, groups and organizations and schools are bound together by a sick twisted boys’ club mentality, at the expense (and, sometimes, the lives) of the women that came in their paths. According to the Washington Post,

Six months later — after the story had become national news — Notre Dame did convene a closed-door disciplinary hearing. The player testified that until he actually met with police, he hadn’t even known why they wanted to speak to him — though his buddy who’d warned Lizzy not to mess with Notre Dame football had spoken to investigators 13 days earlier. He was found “not responsible,” and never sat out a game.

He never sat out a game? Can we hardly be surprised when a big jerk like Mani Te’o is asked to do interviews with Katie Couric? What are people accepting as news?

Violence against women should never be tolerated. Ever. It should not be condoned. Those who perpetrate the crimes should be held accountable. It is so fucked up that this girl committed suicide because of what happened to her at Notre Dame while a stupid football player is given a million more articles and interviews.

We are aghast at the gang rapes in India and when we hear about sex trafficking of children. We know that rape is wrong. This is our world’s new problem.  And it’s not just in developing nations. Read this provacative piece by Susan Milligan to add even more fuel to your fire.

Now go and ask your congressperson to renew the Violence Against Women Act.

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Sorry, this post isn’t an instruction manual. Although I have a few thoughts on the topic and most of them revolve around surrounding yourself with people who share your values.

I recently returned home from a vacation in Denver. My husband and I drove out to see my sister’s family and we were gone about 10 days. Usually when I return from a vacation, I feel listless and unexcitable. I feel run down, a bit sad, and sometimes engulfed in self-pity, of the sort that involves jealousy toward what others have. So I was a caught a bit off guard when after four days back at work I was still in good spirits.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m a pretty upbeat person. I don’t believe a cloud of doom follows me around. I eat well, sleep well, and workout regularly. (My mom believes these are the tenets of keeping depression at bay and I’ve come to sort of agree with her.) However, I am very susceptible to self-pity when it comes to money, what people earn, the material possessions they can afford, how they can decorate their house, etc. I’m good at eventually finding the balance and talking myself out of my wallowing but it usually has a way of smacking me upside the head now and then. (Needless to say, I hate going to the mall.)

That’s the small picture you have of me: a smart, feisty, frugal, dog-adoring, travel-loving vegetarian who’s prone to bouts of horrible envy that often unfortunately lead her to marginalizing the best parts of her own life. Acceptance is the first step to self help. I’m a work in progress.

Anyways, after being back at work, still feeling energized, nonjudgmental, and generally optimistic, I started to think about where these feelings came from. Sure, I was drinking a lot more green tea. Could that be it? Could it be such a simplistic Zen explanation? I wasn’t having worlds more sex and I hadn’t recently received a bonus. (Those two are predictable triggers for me and increased happiness.) So what was it?

My sister. I think it was the result of spending time with someone whom not only do I love but whom I also view as happy and reasonable. When it comes to money, she never has as much as she wants but she has enough — a very important distinction. She doesn’t decorate her house with items from fancy stores. She doesn’t have top of the line frying pans. She walked around in an adorable pair of jeans she bought at Goodwill, where she also happens to buy plenty of her baby’s clothes. They hosted a large Thanksgiving dinner party for two dozen adults, a smattering of babies, many dogs and it was incredibly casual. They needed more plates, so they found some at a thrift store. She and her husband didn’t buy gifts for Christmas; she made him three candle holders out of cut-down tree branches.

But on top of all of this, she doesn’t brag about these facts. I really don’t even think she notices them in much the same way that maybe we don’t even know the street names when we drive to work because we’re just so used to our routine. I don’t need to rehash how easy it is to get caught up in wanting what the Jones family has. We all know the rat race. That’s why it’s incredibly refreshing and peaceful to hang out with someone where this doesn’t even matter, where the want for more isn’t even a conversation piece.

I think spending time with her helped me center myself. It was a chance to slow down and appreciate the little things. Her baby boy doesn’t care about riding around in a pink car seat that was a hand-me-down. He doesn’t know if she makes $30 grand a year or $100,000.  He doesn’t know if there was a better choice for dinner that he’s missing. He’s healthy and chubby and smiley and proud and in love with his mom. He’s a ball of adorableness and sweetness and tenderness that makes your heart swell and just crush everything else in your thoughts. He’s as beautiful in used clothes as he is in brand-new duds. He’s happy if his highchair has cheerios or peaches and strands of dog hair sticking to it. He doesn’t care about hair styling products and duvets and more expensive curtain rods. He doesn’t know that there might be a more expensive day care center; he’s just happy being doted on and squealing with all the other kids and being spoiled where he is.

Truly, isn’t that what life is all about? Isn’t that the secret that everyone knows and always forgets? Maybelline’s new nail polish color isn’t going to make your Friday night any better. A pair of jeans that costs $125 isn’t going to change the quality of your life. I’m not saying that happiness is borne from not spending money. If you’re lucky to have disposable income, good for you. You probably worked hard. I’m saying that you’re more likely to be happy when you know what enough looks like.

Enough isn’t always a raise, a bigger house, a status symbol of a car. Enough is having a brother-in-law you love, a sister that is one of your best friends, and the world’s most perfect human as a nephew. Enough is actually wanting to spend your time off from work with your family. Enough is just time. It’s being alive and being able to enjoy having a breakfast together, walking around the dog park together, feeding your dogs together, finishing another bottle of wine, looking into a baby’s big eyes. It’s being able to afford new tires so you can drive 1,400 miles to make that visit happen.

The days are long but the years are short. Who knows what the future will bring and if we’ll ever have that much time for the extended vacation out west. Who knows how much bigger my nephew will be or when I’ll even see him again. I’m thankful for having a husband who wants to have that vacation with me. I’m thankful that I even get vacation time at my job. I’m thankful for my family. That’s what enough is.

Why not foster a dog? After all we always joke that our dog should be called Gandhi because he is such a bridge builder. He’s never met a dog with whom he didn’t get along. You know those dog owners that say, “Oh, I shouldn’t bring Rocky over. He doesn’t like men.” or “Well I wish we could bring Buttercup over but she gets hysterical when other dogs bark.”? We are incredibly lucky that our little guy goes with the flow and loves other dogs and other humans. Why not harness what we have going on right in the confines of our little house? I was getting excited about fostering. I talked with a woman at my work who is very involved in rescue organizations. I submitted my application yesterday.

I was incredibly surprised when she emailed me this morning, saying she wants to fast track our application since there is a dog who needs a home. This organization is called Voiceless of Michigan, and they accept dogs that would otherwise be gassed or sold for medical research. It makes me crazy!!!! Nothing makes my heart hurt more than animals used for scientific experiments. I think those companies should be outlawed. I am proud that not one item in my bathroom was made by a company affiliated with animal research. I can’t stand for it. It’s so fitting that this group’s tagline is “Speaking for those without a voice.” I believe as humans that is what we can do: give them a voice, comfort them, feed them, find them a forever home where they will know more affection than suffering.

I am excited about doing this. I have a zillion questions about the process, expectations, obligations, and more. I want to do this and I want to do it well. I don’t know exactly what I’m getting into or how inconvenienced we might be. But I’m willing to learn and try. This is going to make me really happy. I just know it. When my husband and I were on a recent road trip, we listed to No Easy Day: The firsthand account of the mission that killed Osama Bin Laden. At the end of the book, the author makes a pitch to all those people who want to do something of service but don’t know how. We’re not all going to join the military (nor do we want to) or be missionaries. However, we can do something good in the world for something bigger than ourselves. We can contribute in our own special ways.

For us, maybe it’s fostering one dog. Maybe it’s saving one animal from the horrors of medical research. Maybe we’re not all vegetarians or vegans or protesters or anarchists or animal liberators. That’s fine. We have to do what we’re called to do. I think for us it might start this weekend with one sweet mastiff mix. I’ll keep you updated!

Then I was ditty-bopping around the Internet and got sucked into a wormhole of tumblrs, blogs, and websites that have opened my eyes and radically changed my perspective. I have confronted my own bias about fat. I have stepped back and tried to understand other people’s experiences. My world is forever changed.

It all started with the brouhaha surrounding the news anchor who stood up for herself against the viewer who called her fat. The Internet was alive with the sounds of popping wires, people flailing around with their opinions and beliefs. It was all so predictable. What was different this time was finding this sane discussion of the issue. If you don’t do anything else on the Internet today, read that article. Read it right now.

This part is what smacked me upside the head:

This issue, despite the protests of the emailer and some of his defenders, is not really about health at all. It’s about making sure there is always an underclass of people who can be readily identified, and that identity used as the foundation on which to prop up hackneyed stereotypes and value judgments (lazy, smelly, gluttonous, stupid, low-class), which ultimately results in an entire group of people being devalued as human beings for having one, relatively unimportant characteristic in common.

Then she says, welcome to appearance-based discrimination 101. I think she was talking directly to me. I’m a staunch feminist. I know all about the pressures that women face compared to men. However, what I failed to see everywhere around me was the gross implicit discrimination directed at overweight people in the most insidious, subtle (and not so subtle) ways.

I devoured this blog. After finishing each post, I would gasp and think “I could have done better in my life.” What’s really beautiful about the Fat Nutritionist blog is the current of self-acceptance. She could have called her blog MoreCompassion and meant it. Whether she is discussing people who are fat, gay, old, mentally frustrated, etc., she just exudes acceptance and affection. It’s beautiful and unfortunately there’s not enough of it in this world.

Through the Fat Nutritionist’s blog, I found this tumblr called This Is Thin Privilege. The posts in there made me cry not just as I read them but as I drove home later in the day and reflected on them. Here’s a small example of the content you’ll find:

Thin privilege is wearing sweats and being “cute and athletic”, while I wear sweats and get told I “look like a slob.”

People think like that all the time!  Here’s another example:

Everything I have read was just evidence of how horribly we treat fat people. It’s like it never even occurred to some people that fat people might be happy the way they are. Everyone isn’t dying to be a size 3 or uncomfortable with how they look. And it also shows me how much privilege is associated with being thin. It’s perverted.

Another piano that fell from a third-story window and landed on my head was TheBodyLoveBlog. One of my new favorite quotes from here says:

“The only thing that anyone can diagnose, with any certainty, by looking at a fat person, is their own level of stereotype and prejudice toward fat people. ” Fat Studies: An Invitation to Revolution by Marilyn Wann

My mind has been blown and I am all the happier for it.