Today dawned with yet another rejection of my writing, this time by British publishing house Mills & Boon. I entered their "New Voices" writing contest last month. They chose 21 pieces out of 1090 entries and I'm not one of them.
I probably should have known I wasn't going to make it...my entry only had 21 comments on it and a reader rating of 56%. Still, I worked really hard and was hoping my writing would turn some heads. Of course it didn't. Why did I let myself think that it could?
You know why? Because 16 years of school told me I was talented. Award-winning, speech-making, newspaper-article talented. But the second I graduated from college I started to fail.
Sixty job rejections my first year in the "real world." All sorts of writing...magazine pieces, children's books, news stories and romance novels...rejected. Marketing proposals, advertising pitches, radio spots...rejected, rejected, rejected. And I haven't even started to count the number of times my broadcast news resume (my tape) went unnoticed.
So here I am: pregnant, unemployed and continually shunned from working society. And all I can think about is spending the rest of my life raising kids, making dinner and doing laundry. I hate myself for being depressed at that idea, as keeping a home is something to be proud of, but I always imagined something more for myself. Is that because of some societal brainwashing? If this was 1949 would I revel in housework and caring for my husband and children? And since it's 2011, I've been raised to think myself a failure if I can't have a career and a family at the same time.
I came across an article today about a "mommy's salary" proposal in South Africa. Basically a successful female businesswoman wants stay-at-home moms to get 10% of their husband's salary in order to translate how important raising kids is (because the only way human beings appreciate anything is if it makes money).
So I guess I'm not totally crazy at imagining 18 years of thankless sacrifice as a mother minus a career. But it's not like I can share that with anyone but the four people who read this blog. Because you know what happens when you say that to stay-at-home moms? They rip your head off. Do you know what happens when you say that to career women? They pat you on the head and look at you with insufferable pity.
Ghastly.
Showing posts with label women's issues. Show all posts
Showing posts with label women's issues. Show all posts
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Thursday, April 14, 2011
The Weight Pendulum
"Would we call her 'chubby' ?"
"I think there's a pretty sizable ass there, yes, sir. HUGE thighs." -- Love Actually
I inherited my mother's body type but my father's body shape. I have shorter legs and a very long torso. My mother graciously endowed me with her pear-bordering-on-hourglass type. I have a 36C chest, a 32-inch waist (which I'm working on whittling) and hips in the 40-inch range (working on that one, too). As a child I was extremely slim...I had a natural inclination to it as my mom had always been slim, I was very active and a picky eater.
My sisters were not so "lucky." Both inherited my mother's proportions (longer legs and a shorter torso) but are more apple-shaped like my dad. They tend to put weight on in their bellies first, and each has a smaller chest and hips than I do. Both were overweight as children...Chloë (older) got thinner as she got taller but still has food issues. Sarah (younger) has been an athlete for decades and tends to keep weight on as she trains.
To compensate, my mom regularly told the three of us Chloë and Sarah were more "naturally" beautiful than I was. I was never allowed to tease them about their weight, but both my sisters could get away with insulting my slimness. One of the most popular remarks had to do with the fact based on weight alone, I should have been in a booster seat in the car until I was 12 years old. My sisters each had a full-length mirror in their rooms but I did not...Mom thought it would make me vain. Looking back, keeping me humble (she calls it "grounded") seemed to be a mission for her.
Anyway, I was teased mercilessly for my lack of figure through elementary and middle school. Kids regularly pulled the back of my shirts to snap my bra strap and collapsed in giggles when they found I didn't wear one. In an urban culture where curves are celebrated, I was the odd one out.
I hit puberty at 16 (a mere week before Sarah did at 14) and started putting on some muscle. By 18 I was 5'5" and about 140lbs. I was still flat but I had some junk in my trunk, so I was coping.
Enter my Caucasian-heavy college years. All of a sudden the slimness I hated in myself a few years ago was the epitome of beauty. Even flat girls knew all the tricks to enhance their cup size and had practiced them from puberty. All of a sudden the junk in my trunk got pitying looks from my size 00 roommates.
SIDENOTE: What the hell is size 00, anyway? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard of. Next thing you know there will be negative sizes. "Yeah, I'm a 2 now but I'd like to be a -4 before the wedding." Gross.
The next stop in my body image saga: the Pill. When I met My Husband at age 20, I decided he was the one I wanted to give my virginity to. I put myself on the Pill and proceeded to put on about 20lbs, going from a 32B to a 36C.
It's almost six years later and I've swung pretty regularly between 145lbs and my current weight of 170lbs over that time. At 5'8" I'm now considered overweight, which is a new experience for me. I am a size 6 in dresses and a size 12 in pants because of my ass and thighs.
I'm trying not to focus on my weight anymore, but more on my fitness level. I don't think I'll ever be rail thin again, and I don't want to be. My Husband loves every inch of me, and I enjoy being a woman so I don't want to destroy all my soft parts.
But still...there is that little voice inside me that bases my worth as a person by that number on the scale.
"I think there's a pretty sizable ass there, yes, sir. HUGE thighs." -- Love Actually
I inherited my mother's body type but my father's body shape. I have shorter legs and a very long torso. My mother graciously endowed me with her pear-bordering-on-hourglass type. I have a 36C chest, a 32-inch waist (which I'm working on whittling) and hips in the 40-inch range (working on that one, too). As a child I was extremely slim...I had a natural inclination to it as my mom had always been slim, I was very active and a picky eater.
My sisters were not so "lucky." Both inherited my mother's proportions (longer legs and a shorter torso) but are more apple-shaped like my dad. They tend to put weight on in their bellies first, and each has a smaller chest and hips than I do. Both were overweight as children...Chloë (older) got thinner as she got taller but still has food issues. Sarah (younger) has been an athlete for decades and tends to keep weight on as she trains.
To compensate, my mom regularly told the three of us Chloë and Sarah were more "naturally" beautiful than I was. I was never allowed to tease them about their weight, but both my sisters could get away with insulting my slimness. One of the most popular remarks had to do with the fact based on weight alone, I should have been in a booster seat in the car until I was 12 years old. My sisters each had a full-length mirror in their rooms but I did not...Mom thought it would make me vain. Looking back, keeping me humble (she calls it "grounded") seemed to be a mission for her.
Anyway, I was teased mercilessly for my lack of figure through elementary and middle school. Kids regularly pulled the back of my shirts to snap my bra strap and collapsed in giggles when they found I didn't wear one. In an urban culture where curves are celebrated, I was the odd one out.
I hit puberty at 16 (a mere week before Sarah did at 14) and started putting on some muscle. By 18 I was 5'5" and about 140lbs. I was still flat but I had some junk in my trunk, so I was coping.
Enter my Caucasian-heavy college years. All of a sudden the slimness I hated in myself a few years ago was the epitome of beauty. Even flat girls knew all the tricks to enhance their cup size and had practiced them from puberty. All of a sudden the junk in my trunk got pitying looks from my size 00 roommates.
SIDENOTE: What the hell is size 00, anyway? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard of. Next thing you know there will be negative sizes. "Yeah, I'm a 2 now but I'd like to be a -4 before the wedding." Gross.
The next stop in my body image saga: the Pill. When I met My Husband at age 20, I decided he was the one I wanted to give my virginity to. I put myself on the Pill and proceeded to put on about 20lbs, going from a 32B to a 36C.
It's almost six years later and I've swung pretty regularly between 145lbs and my current weight of 170lbs over that time. At 5'8" I'm now considered overweight, which is a new experience for me. I am a size 6 in dresses and a size 12 in pants because of my ass and thighs.
I'm trying not to focus on my weight anymore, but more on my fitness level. I don't think I'll ever be rail thin again, and I don't want to be. My Husband loves every inch of me, and I enjoy being a woman so I don't want to destroy all my soft parts.
But still...there is that little voice inside me that bases my worth as a person by that number on the scale.
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