I keep reading the same messages this week about living life now. Right now. Not tomorrow. Not when the sun shines. Or you lose the weight. Or your hair is perfect. Or the stars, planet, and clouds all align. But Right. Now. This instant. No more waiting for perfect…because sometimes perfect never comes.

Check out Jeanette DePatie (A.K.A. The Fat Chick) here.

Check out Kath from Fat Heffalump here.

Most of all, watch this video–the whole thing–for the most inspiring young man ever, Zach Sobiech.

 

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So how am I doing on the path of Health At Every Size? Size acceptance? Self love?

If you had asked me a few months ago I would have said I’m doing fine…just a little concerned about some weight gain. Because isn’t weight gain always a concern?! Weight has been a concern since childhood.

Then I lost the scale. And I was frantic. I knew it was in the bedroom somewhere. Jim had cleaned out under the bed and didn’t replace everything exactly as it was. So the scale was lost somewhere under there with the containers of gift wrap and Jim’s workout clothes.

I told Jim he had to find it. “Because if I don’t have the scale how do I know whether to hate myself?”

I laughed. I always laugh and make jokes. Even when I don’t feel like it. Better to laugh at myself or the situation than let someone do it first or to feel uncomfortable.

But something inside me stopped because I knew I wasn’t joking. How can I exist without knowing the exact number on the scale on any given day?!

Hate myself. Did I really hate myself because of a number? On a scale? Was one pound either way worth hateful feelings? Would I hate my family or friends for the number on the scale? Of course not! Their numbers don’t matter! But mine…

I thought I was farther along in the HAES journey. I thought I was long passed the scale-as-judge phase. But I wasn’t. I had started weighing myself again because of the weight gain. My rheumatologist told me to watch the weight. My internist suggested weight loss surgery. Of course my mind has been on the scale! That damn number…

I’m trying to get over the number. I’m trying not to weigh myself. I want to throw away the scale…but I can’t. I don’t know why I’m hanging on to it.

That’s where I am. Stuck trying to go beyond the scale but still watching over my shoulder to make sure I don’t get to far away from it. I understand that this is something a lot of people experience. I’ve been told it’s hard to get over the years and years of accumulated messages about weight loss and death fat. Still, I thought I was further along…

I wasn’t even going to write about this. I thought no one needed to hear my whining. Then I saw Golda Poretsky’s TED Talk on weight. It inspired me to share my stumble. Just in case any of you are feeling the same way.

Because we really are more than a number on a scale. We really are people and not just bodies. It really is inside that matters. And weight does not equal health.

If you’re struggling, talk to me. If you’re not struggling any more, talk to me. If you don’t think you’re gorgeous, talk to me–because you are dammit!

 

I’m sad to see Google Reader leave–which it is on July 1st. So many of you follow Motherhoot on it. Do you have a different option for subscribing?

You could subscribe directly by email. There’s a sign-up over there to the right. Enter your email address, confirm your email, and you’re done. When I post something, it comes to your email.

But if you’re not excited about getting a million emails every day from blogs you follow–which could happen, I follow tons myself!–you could try Bloglovin’. There’s a link for following over there on the right–above the links to my Social Media Club Houses.

I like Bloglovin’ because it gives me a daily email with new posts from blogs I follow. I love it. It’s one email…snippets of posts…and I can read it at my leisure. I love having the day’s blogs come to me. Lots of times I don’t have time to get to a reader, so this is a nice reminder.

Whatever method you choose, thanks for following Motherhoot! You’re the best!

In a world where we’re constantly being told we don’t measure up. That we aren’t thin enough or beautiful enough. Where even Disney is getting into the business of body shaming by taking a beloved girl character and turning her into a vamp. It’s nice to come across a woman who has her priorities straight and her dreams for her daugher seem healthy.

When Jaime Moore’s daughter turned five, she wanted a special photography session to mark the momentous occasion. She didn’t dress the young girl in evening wear or dress her like a Julie Roberts character. Instead, she dressed Emma as real-life heroines.

I love this! (Yet another reason to wish for daughters…)

Who are the heroines? Real women who changed the world of women for the better: Susan B. Anthony, Amelia Earhart, Coco Chanel, Jane Goodall, and Helen Keller. What a list!

Isn’t it nice in the age of dance moms, real housewives, and faux celebrities to have actual women who have actual accomplishments recognized in such a positive way? What a gift Moore has given her daughter!

Who would you like to dress up as? Are their heroines Moore should add?

 

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Last week the verdict for Jodi Arias came in, and I was waiting on pins and needles. Would she be guilty? Would she be acquitted? If guilty, what charge? I checked my phone. I was glued to the HLN website when I wasn’t at home glued to the HLN channel. At night I watched Nancy Grace and Dr. Drew.

Then I saw the verdict being read. I cried. I grew sad for us as a people.

There was something so primal and disturbing about the chanting outside the Maricopa County courthouse. Americans chanting for death. It was surreal. We see this from foreign countries, from faraway lands. It’s not supposed to happen in the middle of our own country. I grew afraid for the jury if they happened to make the “wrong” decision. Would the crowd outside attack them?

I felt the same way after the Casey Anthony verdict. People were so opinionated and full of vitriol. I knew the jury didn’t take their task lightly. No jury does. Sure you probably have a group of people who would rather be somewhere–anywhere–else. But they are told again and again–even before the trial begins–that they have a responsibility to be partial and fair. Without prejudice.

Something the frothing crowd of chanting Americans was not full of.

When the verdict was read, I felt no glee. I felt nothing but grief and horror for both families. Travis Alexander’s family and friends lost him years ago. Hopefully they have some relief and can start on the road to healing. I hope their positive loving memories eventually eclipse the ones of the Travis that was presented to the nation in a court of law.

It’s Jodi’s family that is left with the debris of this entire mess. Jodi’s personality disorder means she’s self-centered and self-serving. She has no concern for the grief she has rained down upon two families. Jodi’s parents are left with the image of people chanting for their daughter’s death. Inside, they must be blaming themselves. They are wondering what they did wrong. Going through every moment of Jodi’s childhood, they are trying to pinpoint the one mistake they made that can explain all of this.

Did they yell when they should have hugged? Were they fed up with her behavior and offered consequences? It doesn’t matter. Chances are they will suffer the guilt of Travis’ death more than their daughter. It will be a long time until they can walk through their town without feeling self-conscious.

I hope the Arias family finds peace. I hope that Jodi’s parents come to realize that they can’t be responsible for their grown daughter’s actions in this case. Nothing they did when Jodi was eight, 12, 15, or 25 made her commit murder. That responsibility is on her own shoulders. It was her choice. Her actions.

More than anything, I hope I never see Americans chanting for anyone’s death ever again.

 

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I used random.org to pick the winner of the giveaway of the Conscious Box.

The winner is Kelsey Hoyle! Congratulations and enjoy!

Check out other Wordless Wednesday entries here.

Last week I was lucky enough to be invited to participate in a discussion about chronic complaining on HuffPostLive. (Here’s a link if you missed it.)

I thought a lot about why people complain. As was discussed in the conversation, women seem to do the most complaining, but men aren’t immune. It seems we’ve become a nation of complainers.

I don’t think we are bad people. We all want to be the best we can be with what we have at hand.

But, we have everyone and everything conspiring against us, telling us we are never enough and never will be without buying whatever product they are hawking.

For instance, we are being told that we might see Mr. Right, but we won’t meet him if our teeth aren’t white enough. So people everywhere are walking around with nuclear white teeth. That’s not normal. According to my dental hygienist you don’t want your teeth to be whiter than the whites of your eyes. It seems like a good rule of thumb and more people should take her advice.

A cereal seller tells us that we are fabulous and amazing, but will be even better when we eat their product for two weeks and lose an inch. Really, I’m amazing…with constraints? What does that even mean? How many people are rushing out to start the cereal diet because it’s almost swimsuit season?

You can’t wear a swimsuit unless you have a perfect body. Of course any diet company will be happy to tell you how to get that body by purchasing their programs, their foods, their products, and blaming any failure on the consumer. And we listen, completely ignoring the “results not typical” lines flashing by at the speed of light. They don’t want us to know that long-term weight loss is a myth.

Men will get women and cars if they drink certain types of alcohol. They get better jobs if they carry a certain cell phone. They’ve known a long time that the perfect car is the answer to all their life desires.

Mothers know that it’s the juice you serve and the vitamins you stock that measure your worthiness of raising a child.

See, it’s everywhere. We’re never allowed to just be..be content, be happy, be responsible, be frugal. We’re always being told that by not spending, buying new, buying often, buying the right thing we will never be happy.

So the right answer to solving the nation’s complaining problem is to stop listening to the advertisers. They do not have our best interests at heart. Not even medical studies are immune from influence when they are being funded by the very corporations that benefit from them. Turn off the commercials. Stop reading magazines. Ignore the ads cluttering up your email screen.

Despite what we have drilled into our psyches day in and day out, what matters is what’s on the inside. Try being genuine and kind. Helping a neighbor will always beat the type of flooring you have in your home. Learn what out of control consumerism does to our resources. What are we doing to our environment with our more more more lifestyles?

People benefit from our constant complaining. Yes, the people who are getting rich on our dissatisfaction that we didn’t know we had until they told us. What a vicious circle…

 

Mother’s Day is quickly approaching. And the question on everyone’s mind in KlineLand is, “what do you want?!”

It’s so hard this year because I want…nothing, really. World peace. Cliche, I know, but I mean it. A nice family dinner with laughter and teasing. One week without angst of any kind.

See, I’m a simple girl!

Plus I’ve been trying to do that less-is-more life style. Which my new found love of card making–yes, again!–isn’t helping. But I don’t want things…

Yesterday I finally used one of the two gift certificates for massages I got for last year on Mother’s Day and my birthday. This year they are the same day. It was so nice and relaxing. Plus the masseuse (Carrie at the Elements Massage in Bloomingdale) was fun. I laughed and enjoyed the conversation while getting a massage. Perfect day.

This year I will be 47 years old–oops, I mean something with a 9 in it…29!–and I have everything I want. Or I just buy it when I want it. Except for my convertible. I’m still waiting for that. With the current sun rash I have, the desire to own a convertible seems pretty impractical. I bet my dermatologist would be in heaven if I get one though. A convertible…not another rash. Well, he would appreciate the rash.

Maybe I should just ask for full-body sun protection. That would save all of us from the pain of my complaining…