Re-imagined Abercrombie ads

Have you been following the continued fall-out following a few choice words by Abercrombie & Fitch CEO Mike Jeffries on who exactly he wants — and more importantly, doesn’t want — wearing his brand? Everyone from celebrities to bloggers have been reading Jeffries the riot act, but perhaps no one captured the collective sentiment better than blogger Jes M. Baker from The Militant Baker. Not only did Baker address Jeffries in an open letter, but she also shot a mock Abercrombie ad campaign called Abercrombie & Fat.

“I was inspired by the opportunity to show that I am secure in my skin and to flaunt this by using the controversial platform that you created,” writes Baker. “Not only do I know that I’m sexy, but I also have the confidence to pose nude in ways you [Jeffries] don’t dare.”

“The world is progressing in inclusive ways whether you deem it cool or not. The only thing you’ve done through your comments (about thin being beautiful and only offering XL and XXL in your stores for men) is reinforce the unoriginal concept that fat women are social failures, valueless, and undesirable. Your apology doesn’t change this.”

As the saying goes, “A picture is worth a thousand words.” I’d say Baker just said the millions of words people have been thinking for weeks, wouldn’t you? Such an inspiring woman…way to go!!! xoxo

[Photos by Liora K Photography; via Huffington Post]

In which I have a heart-to-heart with my dermatologist

Remember when I mentioned my little trip to the good old dermatologist a couple weeks ago? Well, it wasn’t all that little. It was quite eye-opening, actually. I walked out of the doctor’s office sort of embarrassed — and not just because of my skin blemishes I’d just showed her.
BBB
Let me start from the beginning (and I do apologize in advance if this crosses over into TIM territory; I do like to overshare, remember?). I’ve suffered from eczema since high school. The itchy and red blotchy rashes that would appear on my hands and arms were more annoying than anything else. They usually showed up during times of stress (hello, most of high school!), so I’d be forced to bust out my secret weapon: a tube of prescription-strength cream. Lather a layer of two of that stuff on me, and I’d be a new woman. I outsmarted my eczema for several years, and it remained at bay without much need for that pesky cream. Then last year, it decided to sneak up on me and make an appearance. So, I go some cream from my primary doctor.

I suppose now would be a good time to take a little responsibility for what happened next. I got the prescription filled, used it a couple times, slipped it into a drawer and then promptly forgot about it. In my defense, my skin wasn’t that bad and it wasn’t itching. But I digress. Then about a month ago, my mom noticed an infected-looking eczema spot on my thigh. I had to take her word for it because I couldn’t see it (remember my fused neck?), but apparently, it looked like some sort of wound that had opened and was bleeding. It was all-around concerning. My mother, in her normal fashion, went into panic mode. Her hypochondriac side was coming out in full force.

Wait, did I ever tell you that I used to be a hypochondriac? No? Really? Well, anyway, yes, I used to be one. A pretty bad one. Like, seriously bad. Like, to the point where I used to take my pulse and listen to my heart beat. We used to have an actual medical stethoscope, and I used to listen to my heart beat with it — me, a 10-year-old putting that big stethoscope in my ears and listening for anything abnormal. That’s how bad it was.

Fast forward to a couple weeks ago, and I began to get a teensy bit worried I was a stone’s throw away from becoming that hypochondriac — you know, the kind that desperately searches Google images for photos of their skin condition and trolls WebMD until the wee hours of the night, fueled only by an obsession and the glow of a computer screen. Nope. I definitely didn’t want that to be me. See, you know it’s bad when you’re worried about becoming even more of a hypochondriac than you already are. But then I also didn’t really want to have skin cancer either, so after some hemming and hawing, I reluctantly made an appointment. And just like that, off to the doctor I went — nerves and all.

After a round of the usual questions — How long have you had the rash? Where is it? What is Freeman-Sheldon Syndrome? — the dermatologist brought out the big guns.

“Do you use lotion?“

Uh-oh, she got me on this one. I then had to launch into my long explanation about how lotion is always too greasy and it never absorbs in my skin and etc., etc., etc. She looked a little perplexed, but thankfully, it didn’t look like she was passing too much judgment in her head (I hope, at least).

She then looked at my thigh — yes, it was a bit embarrassing — and said it was simply a boil. So, it was good news after all. I didn’t have skin cancer or the disease carried by that monkey in Outbreak (Whew! That movie always scared me…). Her suggestions? She showed me a special lotion that will absorb better, and she also suggested that I stay better hydrated to keep my skin from getting dry.

So that was it. I walked out of the office with a clean bill of health. I didn’t have skin cancer. Turns out I just needed to drink more fluids and use lotion. Who knew? Not this girl, apparently… xoxo

[Second photo via We Heart It; last graphic made by me]

Guest Post: My mom on motherhood

Well, once again, Melissa has asked me to do a guest post on her blog. I always get a bit nervous when she asks me because she is the writer in the family, not me! But, here goes…

My mother Elenore Erlandson was indeed the best mother any person could ask for. I remember the feeling of security that I had when I was really young when I would literally hide in her skirts (I was a shy little thing!). She taught me the power of just being there. How lucky I was! She also taught me to take responsibility for myself…there were no excuses for misbehaving in our house, especially out in public or in school. It just didn’t happen, as we would never want to disappoint her or my dad. Of course, we were typical kids, and sometimes we would act up. These were the times I learned responsibility for my actions. I remember how mad I would get when, after I would slam my door yet another time, my mom would — oh so calmly — come up, open the door and ask me to close it properly. She taught me gentleness mixed with the firmness that children need to succeed. I still have a bottle of her perfume that I open to this day and breathe in the essence of my dear mother.

Melissa also asked me what I have learned from being a mother. Well, it sure is not as easy as my mother made it look! It’s the hardest yet most-rewarding job I have ever had. I know that sounds trite, but the reason people always say it is because it is so true! I have also learned that, if my mom was anything like me at my age, that maybe she was not as sure of herself as I perceived her to be! Being a mother is a gift, and I am so lucky to have my two “girls”!

She also asked me what three things I wish someone would have told me about being a mother. There is only one that stands out…..DO NOT WORRY SO MUCH! 99% of what I have worried about over the years never came to pass, and the other 1% got dealt with as it came up. Loosen up, let the house be messy and spend every moment that you can with your kids. Time really does pass in the blink of an eye!

P.S. More posts on motherhood.

How do you deal with haters?

Remember when I wrote about certain anonymous creepsters for xoJane, friends? Well, if I’ve learned anything since graduating from high school and college, it’s that the bullies and the haters and the general creepies magically disappear once you graduated from high school and college. In a perfect world, they would. But unfortunately, they don’t.

So, my strategy for dealing with them has always been one of blind indifference — that sort of “turn-the-other-cheek” mentality with the hope that once they see they can’t get a rise out of me, they’ll get bored and move on to their next victim in the metaphorical playground that is the Internet. The strategy has worked wonders (yay!!), and save for the occasional comment here and there, I think I’ve finally found my balance and no longer want to spend my evenings drowning my poor sorrows in a tall glass of root beer.

But, embrace my haters? Even more, love my haters? Huh? That’s something I’ve never really thought of, and yet, that’s precisely what author Ann Friedman is doing. In her New York magazine article, Friedman describes how, instead of ignoring her haters, she actually loves them. What’s more, she even treasures all that hate mail she receives, taking it as a sign that her writing is really making an impact.

“Haters aren’t something to be feared,” she says. “They’re validation that you’re a big deal. And they’re fuel to do better. Now you’re inspired to prove that their jealousy is warranted.”

To illustrate her point, Friedman came up with a Hierarchy of Haters, a handy chart to help rate the hate. “The hierarchy just helps me to compartmentalize them. It’s not that I stop caring altogether, it’s that I care much less about the least consequential among them,” she says. She explains it like this…


*High-order haters are those who really know how to hurt you; they may have real power or influence in your social or professional world. These are the folks you might consider responding to, or otherwise defending yourself against.
*Low-level haters are usually people of little professional or social consequence to you. These are the folks who call you fat and ugly because they disagree with your views on, say, the federal debt.
*The lower a hater is on the pyramid, the more likely it is that the best response is to ignore him — while taking pride in the knowledge that, wherever the hater falls in this hierarchy, his or her very existence means you’re succeeding in having an impact.

How refreshing is this? What a great way to put a positive spin on something that could potentially be a very negative experience. Do you agree with the hierarchy? Anything you would add to it? How have you dealt with haters in the past, friends, either online or in your everyday life? xoxo

P.S. Haters gonna hate and Internet niceness.

[Top illustration by SoSticky]

In The Pursuit of Happiness: Susan Sarandon on aging

We’ve mused about our favorite age before, and I’m eagerly (and a bit nervously…) anticipating turning the big 3-2 in August. So often, we hear stories from people — both men and women — who are deathly afraid of aging and will try everything from Botox to invasive plastic surgery to recapture the fountain of youth. The lesson? Aging is something to be feared. It should be avoided at all costs.

So, it was refreshing to read a recent interview with actress Susan Sarandon in this week’s USA Weekend. The 66-year-old, who stars in the new film The Big Wedding, says the best age is definitely well into your 30s…

“It has to be post-30, because you spend your 20s trying to figure out who you are and what your voice is. I was hitting my stride in my 40s. My 60s haven’t been too bad.”

Thank you, Ms. Sarandon! It’s so nice to hear from someone who is so beautifully embracing their age. Isn’t she inspiring? Who else do you admire for aging gracefully? What have they taught you, friends? xoxo