To date, or not to date: That is the question

There are several adages people sling to those in the face of divorce or an ended long term relationship. Whether they’ve lived it personally or through a family member, or just think they know everything, advice mongers will climb out of every corner offering you wisdom. They not only have thoughts on the appropriate time to begin dating, but also on whom you should avoid, what you should try and attract, and the most suitable place to find said persons of interest. I love them all, don’t get me wrong, they are speaking out of heart and that is never anything to rebuke. But how do I weigh who is right and who is wrong? Or do I follow my own heart and figure it out for myself?

Divorce is a heartache not comparable to anything else. It’s a loss of companionship, sentiment, and self. To pick up the pieces and start anew is not only difficult, it proves near impossible some days. That worsens if, like myself, you have been attached and used to one idea, one person, one built in self esteem security system for over a decade. Your relationship foundation, once solid, has crumbled, remains lying around you, floating on the surface on the sea, and sunk far below anything you will ever see again. You are left holding random parts that will never glue back together, and now need to find a way to make a new “safe haven”, a new home, externally and internally. While the court says when things are final based on a date and a stamp from a judge, I know when my marriage hi-tailed it out of my life. I know when that chapter ended and paper or not, it isn’t ever coming back. I don’t need paper to tell me what’s final, I live it every day, and have for quite some time. That book has long been finished. So who better than me to say when I’m ready for the first chapter of the next?

Some tell you to “stay single as long as you can”. Others with a bit more bite like to say “the best way to get over one is under another”. There are warnings of “sharks”, people that prey on a vulnerable situation to make out like a bandit in their own game. There are warnings of “creeps”, more commonly the folk who are jobless, have a criminal record (or should), or are out to get everything but a piece of your heart. To meet at a bar is deplorable, to meet at church is recommended (if only you go to one that isn’t primarily dominated of married couples and seniors and by the way, from personal experience, GOOD LUCK WITH THAT), and then there is the newest dating craze of meeting someone to date “online”, which contrary to common “taboo”, is actually becoming the number one successful method in finding your soul mate.

I am dominantly indecisive in nature. If you ask me what’s my preferred fast food restaurant between McDonalds and Burger King, even though I tend to eat Burger King more, I will dig inside my head to find pro’s for McDonalds until even I am left wondering which truly is my favorite. I am also very loyal to my loved ones, their ideals, and the words they speak into my life. But as each day grows on, I’m also growing a loyalty to myself, someone long neglected and long deserving of a “first dibs” on the advice front. So which do I choose? Which side wins the debate?

While I don’t necessarily know what I want or need at this point, I don’t see how companionship in form of the opposite sex should be considered a bad or harmful thing, nor do I think in finding and establishing said companionship I am setting myself up for an altar walk or green mile of shame. I don’t think going to a movie or dancing, enjoying a meal or entertaining a telephone conversation will take my attention off of my top priorities in life…my children, my self, my future. Choosing to spend my recently expanded free time with someone other than friends or family, a someone who just happens to be of male persuasion, does not make me a bad mother or a bad friend or a bad person. I am not committing a crime. I’m still at the center of my situation and I’m learning daily my biggest fan has to be me, and as I begin to believe in myself more than I ever have, it would be nice to show that sparkle off to someone else once in a while. I’d simply be broadening my circle of amazing friends and shaking off some loneliness. Why not step outside of the box I’ve become so accustomed to, so trapped inside, in search of what could be a little piece of happiness, a little pep in my step from a random text or an unexpected compliment? Every relationship is built with trust and if I’m going to continue in my journey with myself, I need to start trusting that I can and will make the right choice.

Now the only question that remains is where to go? Stay tuned:)

2014 All original content copyright Sara Elzerman

Death, redefined

Back in days of ole, when someone passed away, whoever was in the room with the deceased would immediately stop the clock. This ritual began in the Victorian era, and it was based on a belief that when a person died time stood still for them and a new period of existence started without time. To allow time to continue was to invite the spirit of the deceased to remain and haunt unendingly. Stopping time was a way to allow the deceased to move on.

As I sit in my kitchen, surrounded by a semi silence spiked with my Pandora mix, I look up to the wall and realize I haven’t changed the calendar since agreeing upon a death of another kind, divorce. Not only is it the death of my marriage, but of a huge part of my adult existence. So it sits. Up on the wall, blazing with my pain, empty boxes, birthdays jotted down long past, denist appointments long expired. And, there I sat. Future vacation plans untraveled. Future dreams left to waste. Future memories unmade. Future picture frames empty of 5 smiles. My heart at my feet and my head hanging down.

Can it be this is a death worse than death? With true death, you watch the light leave someone’s eyes, and then you see them no more, other than in your head and the footprints they’ve left on your heart. You rationalize that the loved one truly is moving on to a better place, as sad as that is for all to bear and whether you believe that place is heaven or a completely new life with new possibilities and new breath, does not matter. In either event it’s a place of beautiful and of happy, not of worry, uncertainty, instability and sadness. In this instance, this kind of death, the loved one is not only still in front of you, but no longer loved, you aren’t allowed to love them, at least not in the same context they once were. I’ve lost a partner, mate, confidant, hugger, friend, and too many other adjectives to list, and by choice, not circumstance. The memories linger longer, bolder, because they are memories now tangled with that fateful memory that ended it all. And every time I look upon that face from now until my last breath, that conversation, the last one, is burning in their eyes. That day, that moment, that part of time has been lost. My heart from that minute has completely shut down and is frozen in that world of months ago, never to move forward, never to replay. The deceased, aka my marriage, is left to remain in peace, buried 6 feet under, resting quietly in darkness and stillness for all eternity, to offer me hope to gain new life and new love, free from the horror and fright of ghosts.

While the calendar sits, and I continue to make my way up to the coffin to pay my emotional respects to the relationship being laid to rest, I choose to remain breathing. Walking. Living. I will leave the calendar untouched, with all of it’s plans and deadlines, and move on to create a new one. Those memories of my past will dance forever in that space, void of time, void of life, no color. I can dance here, even in the midst of tears. I can create a new panoramic dream. One full of forest green and deep purple and hot pink, and while it’s tinged with blue here and there, maybe some black too, the vividness of what lies ahead seems to drown out the sorrows. The light needs the dark, of course, to enhance the beauty of the end result. My time has moved forward, my clock is still ticking, and as hard as it gets, no matter what booby traps are left to be thrown in my path, I soldier on.

All original content copyright by Sara Elzerman, 2014.

Source(s):
http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20080714233526AAy01Pg
http://www.sandiego.org/article/Visitors/665

The do’s and DO NOT EVER’s of public restroom etiquette, 101

It is used by many, cleaned by less and loathed by all (dum dah dum) . . . .the public restroom. We all have a sickening story or five about what we’ve seen, or heard, upon entering into one of these facilities and I think it’s safe to say that no matter how old or young you may be, there are a set of unspoken rules one must follow to make this already hideous experience managable.

I am a member of what society deems “the fairer sex”. Most of us women types are bred from a very wee age to be clean, whether we are doing so for ourselves or others, to be polite, to use manners in everything we do, and above all else, to be a LADY. We put our pinkies up when we drink, we cross our legs in a skirt . . .well . . .most of us do . . .and we personify grace with every move we make. These teachings, apparently, were left out of Charmaines school of potty ethics and so if you will, please take a moment for a lesson of the top 10 behaviors a lady should exude while tending to nature:

10) Your momma/husband/maid doesn’t work here, and we, your coworkers, will not substitute in their absence. I don’t get paid enough to do my own job, let alone clean up after your laziness too. If you get water all over the sink, wipe it up. If you miss the garbage can with your paper towels or, um, “napkins”, pick them up and try try again. Practice makes perfect.

9) Pee belongs IN the bowl. Not around it, not on it, not on the floor surrounding it, INSIDE THE ACTUAL BOWL, where the water sits, in there. If you miss -and I don’t even want to begin imagining how this happens- there is free toilet paper at your disposal to take care of the problem. And yes, ladies, pee all over the seat for a woman who was anatomically DESIGNED to sit her bum down and have all the room in the world to make the target, IS A PROBLEM.

8) Sound affects are AWESOME in stereo surround sitting in the movie theatre, or snuggled up next to your significant other, but they are anything but awesome in the john. I don’t need to hear you grunting like you are benching your weight at the gym, I don’t want to hear you breathing heavy, I don’t want to hear you at all to be honest, I want to pretend you are not even there, so get in, get out, like a stealth spy, and we are golden.

7) If you use the last of the TP, do everyone a favor. It’s okay in this instance to NOT be a tree hugger, the more paper the better, in fact. Share. Either find someone to replace the roll, grab some paper towel and place it on the dowel where the old TP used to live, or grab some TP from the next stall and set it up so the person waiting behind you does not have to “drip dry”. That’s just not nice.

6) Wash. Your. Hands. Please. With soap. Do this. Even if you feel your germs are superior to other’s, even if you swear you are germ free after this event, that no “waste” came anywhere near your paw. While that truly may be the case, that point is irrelevant. There were germs hanging out already when you sat, and then on the paper you touched, and when you touched the door and then when you flushed the toilet, probably up to 20 others shared germs too. And now you, in your delusional “germ free zone” are going to spread your germs AND those 25 others all over the office that I have to breathe in for 7 hours each day. Soap is free, towel is free, PLUS it gets you at least 2 other minutes out of the hum drum bore of the office. Win win all the way around!

5) Do not talk to me while I’m in the stall. You can catch me before, you can hit me up after, but not in the middle. That is my safe place. When that door shuts, so should all outside distractions and conversations. I have one job to do, one that isn’t interesting, a dirty one, and I don’t want to be talking about your love life, my children, and everything in between while I do it. This isn’t like walking in the park, or cooking dinner while on the cell, there are private things going on in there and I do not want you in my head while I’m doing them.

4) So there is this handle looking thing toward the top/back of the toilet, see, and if you push it down, the water and all that’s in the water, will go down this hole to this faraway place that noone needs or wants to know about. It’s magical, really, so be a part of that magic and please . . . .when you are done . . .PUSH THAT LEVER. Also, hang out a minute to make sure it did, in fact, go down that hole. I have this really bad habit of holding things in me until the last minute, with most things in life, including this subject, so when I am ready to go, and that stall opens up, I am IN, and I don’t have time to unbutton my jeans most days, let alone to be grossed out by the art project the last person left behind.

3) Most women have an “aunt flo”, or a “special friend”, or a “time” that comes to visit them every month. None of us particularly enjoy this aunt/friend/time, yet it happens all the same, and we are obligated to do our due diligence in making sure she has the most cleanest of stays imaginable. Regardless of what your grandma said, you CAN flush your tampons down that magical hole I was talking about above. And if you choose to opt for a “padded” option, PLEASE wrap it up before you pitch it. And when you do pitch it, make sure it goes all the way to the bottom of the handy singled out trash bag that each stall is blessed with, so that the next user does not have to get your aunt’s remains on her hands. Yes, ladies, GROSS. It’s bad enough we have our own, we don’t need to deal with your’s too.

2) While commonly a woman is taught that “number two” should be avoided publicly at all times, I will be the first to admit, sometimes it is 100% unavoidable. A lady should have no fear, however, as she should always be prepared and in saying that I mean, they make travel sized perfume and body sprays for a reason. They are fairly cheap, some free. Sneak this sweet stuff in your pocket or your purse, and do not be afraid to bear arms. I personally do not want to come back from lunch and smell someone else’s from the hour before . . .yea, sorry I guess that was a bit much . . . .I’d much rather smell the 2.00 baby soft we used as teens. Help a sister out:)

1) NUMERO UNO, we have reached the end and so we exit with a bang . . . .or rather, a bomb, or rather, DO NOT BOMB. Bombs over baghdad was an awful song, and one I certainly do not want to hear it in the bathroom, live action, from a coworker, that I have to sit with and look at for the rest of the afternoon with a new found air of disgust circling her figure. If you know you are on the verge of a number two situation (as in see above #2 situation), and we all KNOW, ladies, when this time is upon us . . . .if your space is currently occupied with other lingering shoes under the doors, as you feel the fireworks getting ready to pop, three words . . .PREEMPTIVE COURTESY FLUSH. Kills two birds with one stone as follows: Noone else has to hear your turmoil and face embarassment, both for you as the injured and for them being a witness AND the smell will be significantly less if it isn’t lingering around for minutes. You may use this flush as much as possible, I’d much rather hear 10-20 water swirls than, well, the other.

I have omitted rules for the male genre because I am not of this species and something tells me that a good portion of the above is actually done on purpose for reactions sake as guys tend to have a different set of “rules” in this department. I will leave them that as I am never affected by it, but should the day ever come where I am, be ready boys, I will be waiting.

All of these scenarios I have personally faced in inspiration of this list, about three of them just this afternoon, which has prompted my immediate call to action. What would your mother’s say, ladies, your grandmothers? While I am a firm believer in doing your own thing and living for you, I also know we all choose to habitate in a home vs a pig pen. 90% of the time we love our human nature, and therefore, let’s be human, in all areas of our life, and release. What you wouldn’t do for you, don’t force upon someone else.

“Just be clean, girls. That is all.” – Longnote

All original content copyright, Sara Elzerman, 2013.

NO MAKEUP FOR BEAUTY Challenge DAY 5: Now what?

The challenge is at a close, and I am left with a bittersweet taste in my heart. I will miss being on a confidence kick from rocking “my naked face”, for it has made me bolder, and believe it or not, allowed me to feel prettier at times, more content than ever to just be me. But while I have had a bit of fun realizing the hard truths about myself and the world in which I live, I am not able to say I will never again wear makeup or that this “study” has turned me off from liking to wear make up. Much to my dismay, that would be an outright lie. I still it: I love my powder and the fact that my foundation can take years off my eye area, how my gloss can make my lips look two sizes bigger. The difference is, now, I have ALSO learned to love my face WITHOUT the the war paint, the zits, the blotches, the crows feet, all the icky mixed in with the good. And lo and behold, I will admit as I truly have learned, there is much good!

Negative to no makeup: Not a one today, not a one.
Perk of no makeup: Not having to wipe off the day old eyeliner that I forgot to take off the night before. Owie, right?
AND, for extra fun, the glow of a perfectly clean face has begun to feel like home and, without being too arrogant, in the words of one of my favorite work buds, “it’s working for me”.

Social test: Work, grocery store, dance AND the mall. No fears to report, no nervous strides embarked in my hot pink Nike’s, all and all I have become accustomed to this new “attitude” and wear it well. If I were being honest, and I do my best to do that often, I’ve actually noticed more women NOT wearing makeup in public than ever before. Did I not care before to look, being so blinded by my every day personal struggle with vanity? Am I late to the party here, has this trend been going on all along and I’m just now jumping on the bandwagon?

Revelation: MY LAST ONE:( Going out with a bang here, but with great leaps come great things. The biggest, hardest pillto swallow in this entire challenge is as follows: Make up, regardless of the context it is used in, is a mask. We put it on to hide our flaws, to perk up our assets, and put on a persona of something we want to be instead of what and who we really are. Whether you put it on for fun, pleasure, or because the thought of someone seeing your naked face makes you uneasy, you are putting it on. In life, each of us is a co-conspirator, and not just with makeup. Clothing, material possessions, friendships we keep, jobs we take, social issues we fight for – how many different masks do we keep and why? Are you the same person at home that you are with family? At the office? At the bar after work with friends? Do you fight for a certain right in public the same as you do with a select few of “learned” individuals?
Enter another great film “Runaway Bride”. The character played by the beautifully funny Julia Roberts has had a slew of failed relationships in her past. In researching her life’s backstory for an article, Richard Gere finds out that with every different man she loved, she liked her eggs a different way. With one overeasy, another poached, and so on. She didn’t feel comfortable with herself, she had lost herself along the way, her persona entangled into everyone else’s viewpoints, opinions and needs that with every relationship she morphed into what she felt she had to be.
Tough stuff, that. How do you like your eggs?

Heart says: I like mine over-easy, or “dippy eggs” as I used to tell my mom in the morning. If I can’t dip my toast into it, forget about it. Thankfully, my egg preference has always been the same, BUT, in more important places of myself, not so much. I’ve changed much and more of my ideals, my wants, needs, goals because I felt someone else wanted me to, or I’d fit in better with the crowd I wanted to be “in” with if I pretended to like things this way. My makeup is only the surface of this issue. Where else in life do I “put on a mask”, what made me do it, how long have I been doing it, and more importantly, what can I start doing to get it off?
Being yourself, while sounding so generic, is actually one of the most amazing points to a great personality because it’s one of the hardest things to do in life, no matter who you are or where you came from. At first, you must truly know yourself, love your flaws and your assets and realize that there is no such thing as ultimate perfection. No, let me rephrase, ACCEPT there is no such thing. Don’t let someone’s opinion of you become your reality. Make your own reality. KNOW what you want and what it will take to get it. KNOW what you dislike and don’t try to justify reasons to stay away from it, just let it go. Habits aren’t formed overnight and they don’t go away that quickly either, but if you strive to work on something one moment, one day at a time, with dilligence, with perserverance, the mask will fade away and you will be staring at your beautiful, naked heart in the mirror.
If you are anything like me, a control freak of sorts who has to have everything in its own little box because it makes sense there, who takes everyone else’s view of your life more seriously than you do your own side of the story, this next part will be a struggle for you. Lay down . . .trust me . . .I have my feet up just typing it. In most things, there are no absolute shades of black and white. I know. I know. Take a breather, it will all be okay. There are several shades of grey in this little life we live and that is okay. That is okay. That is OKAY. What side of the grey do you want to be on? What shade of grey makes you, YOU? Wipe away the superficial, other’s expectations of you, guilt of failures past or embarassment at foolish dreams. Only YOU can answer this.

I have proven the stereotype that pretty girls are usually the most insecure. We have issues too, contrary to some’s belief, stemming from inside to out, and the work we put in isn’t any more easy than that of someone the world labels “not so pretty”. I have also proven I have issues, tons, buckets full, and this is only the icing on the cake in bringing those demons out of the catacombs. I started easy – the makeup was just the beginning and gave me the start of what now is turning to be a very inviting overhaul makeover of life, a process that will take years, a relationship that will be the longest one I’ve ever had, one that I can be proud of, one that I can leave as a legacy to my kids and their kids after them.

In closing, I challenge all of you to do something big. Something grandiose, whether it sounds easy, ridiculous, impossible. Our true character is seen when pushed outside of it’s comfort zone. Surprise yourself, surprise someone else.
Take it deeper. Quiet yourself, not everything that goes through your head is normal, nor does it need an audience. Don’t shy away from making someone else feel good about themselves. Watch your mouth, even the simplest things said can change a future. Love your “issues” just as much as you love your “strengths”, in ignoring them you are becoming your worst enemy. Be a light in a world of darkness, it’s okay to be different. BE YOURSELF.

Although I know it’s unfair I reveal myself one mask at a time.
Stephen Dunn

Until next time<3

All original content copyright Sara Elzerman, 2013.

NO MAKEUP FOR BEAUTY Day 4: Nearing the home stretch

Day 4: The end is near! It took me several attempts to snag this picture, or rather, a good smile. As I was on break in the lobby, I kept trying to snap one incognito so everyone around wouldn’t notice as they were scurrying to the vending machines or to and from the bathroom. I work in a 4 story office building in Troy. There are anywhere from 1 to 2 offices per floor and 50-100 people per office, I’d imagine, so lets do the math on how “congested” the traffic is around 11:30am, considering the primary food source is 20 strides away. The odds were not in my favor, however, I made it happen. Just call me Katniss:)

Negative to having no “war paint” today: I’ve found it to be very hard to make an outfit look good when I can’t accessorize my face.

Positive to naked face: I’m beginning to see a change in my skin, and for the better. It seems to have a glow about it, or is it me who is beginning to glow?

Social test: Today was my son Noah’s 3rd birthday. That meant dinner out, at a restaurant in one of the busiest business hotspots in the metropolitan area, family oriented, lots of lighting, at the busiest dinner time of the evening rush, which automatically equaled PACKED. It was then followed by a trip to Wal-Mart and I really don’t have to even explain that one. (Yes, I do shop here, please don’t judge me). In hindsight, however, Wal Mart is probably the SAFEST place to try out a challenge of this caliber. But from my shoes, nowhere on the “outside” of my own casa has been safe at first step. Amazingly enough, to date I can honestly say that I have yet to see a reaction of terror on anyone’s face as I stroll through the doors, have yet to make children cry, haven’t heard one scream or made anyone run off into the night….so far, so good.

Today’s revelation: As I stated above, I have not heard one negative comment about what I am doing or how I look in doing this challenge. I have, however, heard this common theme from amongst my friends and peers of the female persuasion: “If I looked like you without makeup, I would do it too”, or “If I didn’t have (insert negative comment about their facial “self” here) going on, I would go makeup free in a heartbeat”. This bothers me and here is why. By saying those things, even thinking them, the whole point of this challenge is being proven and it saddens me. By giving these imperfections words, they are givien life. They are true because we are making it so. How can we expect anyone else not to judge us by our looks when we first put so much weight on them ourselves? Whether it’s acne, dark circles, red blotches, two color eyes, who says that’s not pretty? And more importantly, why do we care? Why is so much weight placed on someone’s outward physical appearance, where people are literally painting and altering their faces to match someone else’s checklist of perfection?
The movie “Shallow Hal” rings a bell in all of this. Hal is brainwashed to see people for their true inner self, whether that be beautiful or ugly, and that self dictates what they exhude in their physical features. If they are gorgeous on the inside, then they take on a gorgeous shell, even if truly they are considered handicapped on the pretty front. If they are ugly on the inside, then they resemble a hideous beast of a human, even if on the outside, they resemble Miss USA. It’s a great movie, I definitely recommend, and also an amazing concept. Scary though, were this brainwashing a real life scenario, what would you resemble when you looked in the mirror?

My heart says: At first in hearing this I got upset. I have facial flaws by the truckload, how could people not see them? I have dark circles under my eyes, I have bags, I have acne, I look “rough” or “weathered”, my smile is cartoonishly large, and most importantly, FOR YEARS I have hated my nose. HATED my nose. To me it’s too long, and it just kind of juts out, and when I turn a certain way I could probably pass for a twin of the Evil Witch….minus the green thing. I can’t even tell you when it started, I don’t remember if it birthed as a self induced despise or was contributed by someone else making a comment (or several) growing up. When I was in college, I fooled around a bit with the prospect of professional modeling and as I was up in front of a panel on an interview, being gawked at from angles I never knew existed, do you know what they said to me, these 4 people entrusted with the job of judging perfection every minute of every day? They told me the most amazing, beautiful feature about me was the thing I had learned to hate the most, my beak. True story, and my point in this little short story is this . . .Everyone’s version of beauty is different. Life is 10% of what happens to you and 90% how you perceive it. You may think a cheek full of acne is disgusting or deplorable to look at, but your neighbor might be so enamored with the sparkle of happiness and life in your eyes that they don’t even notice it. The dark circles you own might be comparable to Rocky’s shiners when you look at them, but your husband might see the love you have for your children, the unending love that causes many sleepless nights and sometimes lack of care for your physical self, and to him you are the most beautiful woman in the world. Don’t be your worst enemy. Find your inner beauty and appreciate it. Why do you love yourself? What is it that makes you, you? What does pretty look like to you? If you were to pass on tomorrow, what legacy would you want to leave behind, what would you want people to say about who you are? Something tells me “a pretty face” isn’t even in the top 3.

Goal: May sound a bit hoaky, but trust me, it’s a tried and true recipe for building your self worth TO YOURSELF. My best friend actually shared this with me years back and though I initially quit after day 1, now more than ever I find I need to incorporate this every day and so I share with you. Strength in numbers, right?
When I wake in the morning, after I get out of the shower for days I go makeup free, or just before I’m doing my makeup for days that I don’t – KEY WORD BEFORE – I will look in the mirror, look myself dead in the eyes and tell myself OUT LOUD, in all of my 100% naturalness, that I am beautiful. I will pick out a feature or a flaw on my face each day, alternating between the two, and tell myself why that feature makes me pretty. Yes ladies, even zits can make you pretty . . . .example (this is SO good): “This zit is gorgeous. It came from the delicious loaded ice cream sundae I ate late last night and that sundae made me happy because it allowed me some selfishness in an otherwise completely selfless existence”. I will point out an internal quality, a great character trait that I possess, and I will tell myself why it makes me awesome. I will be my biggest fan and start supporting my legacy, both for myself and the future of my children. After all, if I don’t recognize my beauty, and for the right reasons, I can’t expect anyone else to either. If something is said enough times, eventually it is believed. Why not begin using this process for the good instead of the bad?

Beauty in things exists in the mind which contemplates them.
David Hume

All original content copyright Sara Elzerman, 2013.

NO MAKEUP FOR BEAUTY Day 3: Sharks are swimming . . . .

Day 3 – Big day, big day indeed. “Hump day”, in the middle of what was and what will be. I wanted to be as physically comfortable as possible, enter flannel print button down and hair in a side braid. I love me a good braid, but thanks to my worst haircut ever still in the end phase of growing pains, these luxuries are few and far between. I think God was smiling down on me today knowing what I was about to be up against, at least for the first two hours:)

Hardest part about no makeup: Going back to work, AKA the shark tank, looking “less than” according to the average bear.

Perk about no makeup: I got to braid my hair. It took about 20 minutes.

Social test: See above. Today was my jump back into the work force, aka Shark tank, after being off for over a week while the kids were home for Spring break. Let me clarify, my company in and of itself is not a shark tank. I work for outstanding individuals who exhude top notch ethics and appreciation for hard work and dedicated employees. I love my job. It’s the mean girls I have issue with, and there are a good number of them on all different floors, It’s them I feel I have to “sparkle” for. Isn’t that silly? Society often tells women we need to “put our face on” to impress a man, or our man if you’re taken. Going back to day one, and from what I’ve been hearing and learning on my journey, men truly are not the one’s that care, at least not the one’s are worth our time and concern. The majority of men actually PREFER the just out of bed, hair a bit messy, no makeup, fresh faced beauty. Up until today I always thought this to be a smoke screen, something they say to make us feel better about the fact we look like “Madame Medusa”, a lie. But, I’m the one whose been lying. To myself. They mean it.
Really, if questioned, most women will tell you that our largest critics are our peers – other women. Age doesn’t matter, nor does background, education, social status. A woman born and raised in Georgia, who makes 1 million a year is on the same playing field as another who grew up in Detroit and can barely find full time work that pays 8.00 an hour. Two things bring these women together, bring all women together, and that is their first name is judgment and their last name is gossip and they aren’t happy or “normal” unless they are doing both on a regular basis. Did any of said “girls” in the office building utter comments to me or about me because my shine could be seen 50 miles away? That I heard, no, but in the mind of a woman, just because I didn’t hear it, didn’t mean it didn’t happen, and we can never give anyone the benefit of the doubt. . . .

Revelation: Yes I left that off being extremely sarcastic, but for a point. Why do women have this mindset that a fellow woman will take a chance in stabbing her peer in the back or IS in fact doing this before she takes the time to befriend her? As women, we have a huge responsibility to each other in breeding self esteem, and yet when opportunity knocks, in most scenarios, we breed the exact opposite. Jessica Simpson and Kim Kardashian have put on weight exceeding in 200lbs with their first pregnancies (GASP). Instead of saying “Good for you, your first baby only happens once, LIVE IT UP”, we are the FIRST to say “WOW, she looks like total crap, Good luck trying to work that off”. Really? I gained almost 100lbs with my first, I topped the scale at about 215, no lie and I’m proud to say that. While the work in losing it was tough, most of my pregnancy was enjoyable NOT being concerned with diet and excersise. I had no interest in being Victoria Beckham, proved relevant by the fact that I ate my weight in Mexican food whenever I was given a green light.
It seems as though a gut reaction of “meanness” lies deep within us all, we all have it in us to be nasty, from attacking someone’s physical features to deeper issues within. It starts as kids, it grows through teenage moments, and is still carried up through adulthood. Don’t get me wrong, not all women are beasts to one another. There are a good many who are not, but I think those women first had a “come to Jesus” talk before they became who they are today. How do we rid ourselves of this disease before it’s too late?

Heart check: This one cracked a piece off I think, of the heart that is, because I’ve realized I am no better than the scenario I described above. I’ve hurt many a woman with the things that I’ve said or didn’t say when given the chance. Friends, enemies, strangers. I’ve hurt myself even, uttering untruths and forcing myself to believe them, thinking it’s helping when really it’s damaging my soul.
Women – I say we need to wake up, put the guns down, and realize that we are each other’s strongest asset. We are a force to be reckoned with when bonded together, we can change the world . . . .rephrase . . .we WILL change the world. because we are so headstrong and determined that there is no other option. We need to be this for each other and use it to our advantage! We need to try hard EVERY day to build one another up, no more cut downs, no more jabs just because we can. You can tell yourself 100x over that what you say to or about someone else doesn’t matter or shouldn’t, but it does. It truly does, and the worse part of it is, you are hurting yourself above anyone else. I’m not telling you change your stripes if you are a tiger or to paint them on if you are a kitten, but use your strengths in character to pick someone up instead of pushing them down. If we don’t have each other, who do we have? There was a study done on reasons men seem to die at a younger age than women. Other than the fact that they refuse caring for themselves properly, another cause was found to be they have no one they share life with completely uninhibited. The ins and outs, the ups and downs, no one to cry with or laugh with or be downright honestly silly withThey bottle stress because they have no one they feel they can be completely vulnerable with. Women do this, it is who we are and what we are about, it is one of our best qualities. If we keep crushing each other to bits, who will we have?

Goal: I am not trying to win a sainthood in all of this and I know, as much as I talk about goals and the need for change, I will stumble back into some of these poor behaviors more times than not along the way. But I am resolving to try and trying is the first step in achieving greatness. To combat this “mean girlism” I vow for 1 week (at least) to not be mean. While that sounds simple, trust me, as a woman, surrounded by other women, it is so not. No matter what I hear, no matter what is said, no matter how much my blood boils, I will keep silent. If I have the urge to “blast off” then i will do so using a pen and a pad or a keyboard and a monitor and then hit “delete” so the words never truly leave my mouth, but they leave my heart. I’ll let you know how that goes . . . .:)

Women need real moments of solitude and self-reflection to balance out how much of ourselves we give away.
Barbara de Angelis

All original content copyright Sara Elzerman, 2013.

NO MAKEUP FOR BEAUTY Day 2: Hitting home . . . . .

And here I go, Day 2, Monday. Mondays in and of themselves are just rotten so I didn’t go in expecting much. The 100lb bags under my eyes are my favorite, and if I were a cartoon, I’m sure they’d image dollar signs on them for good measure. My husband needs to take some of the blame for these diamonds,or should I blame MC Hammer? You see, as I was up awaiting his return from “dance practice” . . . .long story . . . .I instead get a text that he is being seen in the emergency room for a possible broken ankle. I am the definition of worry wart – seriously – you will see my picture in the nearest Websters if you look, and so any hope for sleep was then sucked out of my being and replaced by a short story of what if scenarios, aka fear and anxiety. By the time he ended up safe and sound and in bed, I was well into “nurse” mode and the rest is plainly seen on my non makeup face the following morning:)

Hardest part about ditching the paint: See above . . .bagalicious.

Perk about having a naked face: I got to enjoy an impromptu conversation with a friend outside after the kids went to school. When does that EVER happen anymore?

Social test: Today’s jump into the lions den was fairly mild. I volunteered in both of the kids classrooms at school in the morning, kids are always the best audience, they always see straight to the heart, so I earn points there. Later in the evening, I had to drop my daughter off at dance. In and out, mostly friends, mostly rushing moms such as myself, non painful. No-one gave a second glance, no-one shot me the death ray through their pupils. The day went on as normal, even though I wasn’t caked in coverup and eyeliner. I SURVIVED. I also got smacked in the face, by my own daughter at that.

Revelation: As much as I feel “silenced” in alot of areas in my life, today more than ever, I learned I need to “shut up”. In getting ready for dance, Bella, my daughter, mentioned to me how I looked “different”. I asked her why she thought that and she said she didn’t know, I just didn’t look like my “normal” self. I told her how I’ve decided not to wear makeup for a while. She asked why, and I told her because it’s important to know you are pretty without it. Her exact response was “but you always say how ugly you look without it mom”. Insert silence. What could I say to that simple, brutally honest response? At first, nothing. Not a word, more out of guilt and shame than anything. I followed the eerie quiet by kneeling down beneath her level, placing my hands on her shoulders (which as of late don’t come too far under my own), and from the heart, uttered “I’m sorry”. And I am. I have become the enemy, the very thing I try so hard to speak against. A piece of garbage that I spurted out, something so far from reality, my daughter placed in her memory as truth. And that little piece of garbage would be with her for the rest of her life. She watches me, she looks to me in everything and I failed her in a big way.

Heart check: Even as a girl I struggled with “my mouth”, very quick to speak at times and slow to think, able to cut someone to shreds with just one snarky sentence. I think I even earned that nickname from an ex boyfriend once and it got me pushed out of a canoe into a raging river. But that’s another story:) The fact that now I still find myself strugging with it is a bigger problem and something I need to not only get to the bottom of but try to find a cure for, and fast. Words can break just as easily as they can build and usually quicker. I do not want to be at fault for someone else’s insecurity or lack of confidence. I have become just that not only to myself, but now to my daughter, my children. I want to be an inspiration, an encourager, someone people look to for love and support. How awful for my daughter to look back in 20 years and compare me to the sheep of society. For her to not see me stick out as a light amongst the darkness? I shudder at the thought. I need to watch my mouth, I need to guard my words, and more importantly, I need to tap into my heart. My mind is the one doing all of the talking, my emotions. My heart knows better and it’s my heart I need to listen to.

Goal: For every negative thing I catch myself saying, whether it be about a person or a situation, I need to counteract it with something positive about that very same subject.
IE: “OMG BECKY, Look at her butt. It’s just so round and so out there, i mean, uh, gross. . . .REDO: Wow Becky, Those are the cutest pants, aren’t they? I wish I knew where she got them. Maybe I’ll ask her!
Maybe a bit cheesy sounding at first, but imagine, what kind of impact striving to do this in every day life could have on you and those around you. This for me will be a HUGE project, but one that definitely pays for itself. I encourage you to search your words and jump on the Sara train:)

And as always, a quote:
False words are not only evil in themselves, but they infect the soul with evil.
Socrates

All original content copyright Sara Elzerman, 2013.

NO MAKEUP FOR BEAUTY Day 1: Heading out . . . .

Day one has come and gone.  I survived, and it was much easier than I thought . . .except for when it wasn’t:)  Though I don’t live in makeup, I enjoy wearing it, and I always have.   I enjoy taking the time and looking in the mirror when it’s on that last time and internally saying “Very nice”.  I do not wear it every day, but the times I DO NOT wear it I’m usually housebound, only venturing out of the house in ER or no sleep situations. With that being said, some of you may think this challenge is an easy one and for some of you it just might be.  I am not one of those people which tells me now more than ever, this challenge is my “lent”, on a journey of sacrifice and self worth.

Hardest part of no makeup day 1: My nervous’ systems reaction to excitement or fright = red blotches

Perk of no makeup day 1: I got 20 extra minutes to watch a Beverly Hills 90210 rerun yesterday

Social “test” of no makeup day 1: To the bowling alley I go! For those of you who aren’t regular bowlers, a Sunday afternoon of open bowling is one of the most non socially confrontational things you can do.  The alley is usually a ghost town, save for one or two families taking their kids out for a couple of hours.  It’s a safe zone, a perfect ground zero to buck up and face myself “as is”.  So, imagine my dismay if you will, as we drive into the parking lot, and I see it PACKED full of cars.  The butterflies have been unleashed and my head is whirling as to what could possibly be causing all the traffic.  A tournament, it turns out.  Of men.  And not just men.  FIREFIGHTERS.  True story. I begin my walk down the blue carpeted mile, my arms crossed, head down, not only wishing I would have started this tomorrow but also wishing I would have opted for the jeans vs yoga pants.  You know what they say . . .go big or go home…… Tournament bowlers are lined to the left and the right, drinking, watching the game (GO TIGERS), hanging in their herds, eyes on me, judging, whispering, laughing, or so I fear.   The truth, however, proves me wrong, and the truth is this:  Listen ladies –   They don’t care.   They aren’t there to “pick up chics”, they aren’t waiting for me to walk through that door noticing my every move.  They are there to bowl, to have their guy time, swear at their dissapointments, slap high 5s for the strikes, and go home.  Now, had I been wearing a skin tight leather mini with my upper “twins” hanging out, maybe I would have attracted some attention at first step.  But let’s be honest, who wouldn’t be attracted to that kind of ridiculous at 1pm on a Sunday in a bowling alley?   Men are not the problem . . . .yes, I did just say that, go ahead and record it.

Revelation day 1:  I am my own worst enemy when it comes to insecurity.  Not society, not men’s ideals of what a “beautiful” woman is defined as (thank you Sports Illustrated), not the PTA, me.  Not everyone is watching me 24/7, just waiting to see what I’m wearing, what shoes I’m wearing,  or if my eyeliner is smudged.  When did I become so significant to everyone, including strangers I know nothing about?  Reality check – I’m not.  People will go about their lives, big and small, without ever thinking two seconds of me, some without ever knowing my name, so why is it I spend SOOOOO much time contemplating and consuming my thoughts about others, or rather, how I am portrayed to them?

Insecurity heart check day 1:  I have an innate need to feel important, a need to be noticed.  Maybe I never felt this in childhood and this is my way of trying to correct that dysfunction.  It certainly wasn’t present in past relationships, romantic or otherwise.  Ultimately, the cold hard truth is that I’ve never had a strong or healthy relationship with myself. The issue lies at my doorstep. I’VE lacked feeling important because i’ve lacked making myself important.  I’VE lacked being “noticed” for the right reasons because I don’t notice myself. I don’t take the time to relax, to learn my strengths and weaknesses as a person instead of a portrait. I’ve become more caught up in what so and so says and thinks than I am with what I want and need. I’ve lost my voice, or did I ever even have it? Simply desiring or striving for these things isn’t the problem, but if I go about attaining them the wrong way they become destructive, not only to me, but to the one’s I love.  Too often do I go through the motions of life. Much to say but kept my mouth shut, dreams at the tips of my fingertips and I’ve closed my fist instead of reaching for them, sitting on the side line instead of jumping into the game head on.  These things are no-one’s fault but my own, and yet, I can find a way to fault them on someone else, up, down and sideways in fact, till I’m blue in the face. That stops now. Well, not right now. Habits aren’t formed overnight and they certainly won’t stop that quickly. But rather, the work begins now.

Goal to inner beauty day 1: When and where I can, I will make time to learn myself. I will learn to love who I am, I will accept my flaws and discover ways to fix them. I will mourn over who I was or ways I’ve changed, and heal to become better. I may be old, but I’m not dead, and the quest to improve never truly stops until the opera lady sings:)

Until day 2, food for thought. . .
Self-worth comes from one thing – thinking that you are worthy.
Wayne Dyer

NO MAKEUP FOR BEAUTY : A 5 day challenge for the heart and soul

So I had a bout with nostalgia yesterday and I began digging through my bin of old photos to scratch my itch.  I found pictures of me from my high school years, what sometimes feels like just yesterday was actually 15 years ago now, and I can’t help but recognize the change in girls from “my generation” vs the girls today.

We tried to keep our hair “just right”, wore the “in” shoes, we tried hard to stay within the boundaries of “cool fashion”, but erring on the side of tasteful moderation for fear our parents would take a pair of scissors to the shirt that showed a little too much skin (that actually happened to me once, but that is another blog for another time).   Some of us wore makeup, however it was light, and the motto “The key to wearing makeup is to look like you are wearing none at all” was something the majority of us religiously lived by with pride.  We didn’t paint our faces to look like the airbrushed cover girls of VS’s recent catalog because It was “hotter” and more of an ego boost to have your natural beauty attract the opposite sex.

Nowadays the “jersey shore” complex has swept the nation and girls as young as 10 are eating this concept up like it’s candy . . .less is more from clothing to self respect, confidence in ones self is not weighed by personality, grace, values or God given beauty but rather by whose parents have less morals and more money, to afford the latest makeup line at Clinique and Mac, or to gift their daughter with a plastic surgery visit at only 16.  Most girls today are so obsessed with the opinions of society and the opposite sex, that they will do any and everything to fit that mold before they will stand up in strength against it.

As much as I’d like to point the finger at others and say I have never contributed to the new age ruination of today’s girls, I’m just as guilty.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been shopping with my daughter, or put on makeup with her sitting next to me, her big eyes watching me full of awe, and I’ve uttered . . .”This shirt makes me look fat, doesn’t it?”, “Ugggg, I look like crap” or “Ahhhh, makeup does wonders doesn’t it?”.  These things seem harmless, we only mean them half in jest. But to a young, growing mind, who looks to only me, her peers and today’s social teachings of what outwardly beauty should look like, I’m definitely not doing much in the arena to persuade her that the world is wrong, that whether you have flawless skin or a handful of pesky pimples, true beauty lies within.  I’m instead fueling the fire,  tapping into the brainwash that being a woman is about outwardly features and you are defined by what you look like instead of who you are.

And so today, I begin a NO MAKEUP FOR BEAUTY challenge.  I will wear no makeup, of any kind, for 5 whole days.  To some of you this may not seem a big deal.  However, when you are a 30 something woman with three kids, a little sun damage, and less sleep as each night passes , you understand why this concept can be a scary one to stare down for even an hour let alone several days.

I’m going to pack up the powder, the eyeliner, the lip gloss, and go “au natural” to remind myself that beauty is heart deep.  Shine and sparkle comes from within, so the 20 minutes I’d normally spend in my makeup bag in the morning will now be directed to my inner mirror, to work on pampering the inside.   I will build my confidence and start to rip apart my personal insecurities to truly make me beautiful and proud to be me.  I hope to help strengthen my daughters little life in a huge way.  I will not be ashamed to go the grocery store, to work, to the kids school, to play, I will wear my wrinkles and dark circles like a champ and hopefully have the opportunity to explain to young and old why I look so “different”.

I’m going to post pictures of my test and also live journal along the way so as not to forget where I start and where I end up.  I challenge you to join in.  Whether you are young or old, have kids or living the single life, work full time in or out of the home, no matter where you live, no matter what you believe.  Jump off the worlds bandwagon and into your own and give beauty back it’s meaning.

Today is day one . . . .wish me luck:)

Everyone  thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing  himself.
Leo  Tolstoy

Beauty is heart deep

I am definitely guilty at times of broadcasting to facebook any and every little flippant thing that sparks my interest, frustration, laughter.  Today, however, I pray that everyone – parents in particular – pay attention to this next “blurb”, or rather, plea.   I can no longer keep quiet.

My daughter is beautiful, she doesn’t have what society types as a “normal dancer body”, but I say it again… , SHE IS BEAUTIFUL.  Her heart, her smile, her moves, all of them are filled with the love she has for this sport.  When I watch her, I see nothing but grace, happiness, and confidence.  Twice, now, I have heard IGNORANT women, fellow mom’s at that, make comments about other dancers who also, like my daughter,  may not physically fall into what society has pegged as “a dancer’s body”.  What adds even more insult to injury, is the fact that both times, these women were referring to girls on the same team as their daughters.  This not only ANGERS me to the core, it disgusts me.

First, beauty comes from within and is in the eye of beholder.  YOU may think it’s attractive to have bones jutting out from every possible limb imaginable, but I personally want to barf and smack someone everytime I see that.  Tomato, Toe-mato, life is 90% perspective.  Second, last I checked, these girls are dancing side by side with YOUR daughters which says they didn’t make this team based on “stereotypical” bullcrap or because they look like a Barbie doll, they made this time because of TALENT, which is just as good or possibly better than the “skinny” girl standing next to them.  They all try out the same, they all are up there competing and smiling with the same moves, who are you to judge?

Women like this, and I will even broaden my scope to include the entire population, PEOPLE, like this, are rotten.  You are the reason for eating disorders.  You are the reason for bullying.  You are the reason kids no longer have a reason to dream, and more importantly, why they have no confidence to try.  How dare you sit in judgment on someone else.  These girls are all beautiful.  We, as humans, are all made differently for a reason.  God NEVER makes mistakes.   Some are big, some are small, some are short, some are tall. Physique does not define beauty.  Being blessed with a pretty face does not define it.  YOUR HEART DOES.  My daughter is healthy, she is not fat.  She is more active than I ever was at her age and I was a beanpole, and given the choice she’d eat her weight in fruit before she would in fries . . . .well, maybe that’s a stretch, but it’s a stretch for any kid:)   My point is this . . . you have no idea her background, her history – the fact that her dad is 6’4  and she’s followed in his footsteps since birth, wearing 3t clothes at age 1 because of her height  – so who are you to determine her worth for how you feel she looks in her costume or her practice clothes?

This goes for anyone.  THINK BEFORE YOU SPEAK.  What may mean nothing to you, could potentially spiral another persons life course into a very sad end.  Whether someone is 300lbs or 100lbs, whether they are 85 years old or 8 years old, whether they have a physical or mental disability or come from a different part of the world, if their heart and their legs and their dream is telling them to  dance, and they are given an opportunity to do that, SHUT UP AND LET THEM DO IT, the most important words of that sentence being SHUT UP.