March 20, 2007

To the Next Twenty-Five Years

On my recent only-four-years-from-40 birthday, Husband and I celebrated something much more momentous: our 25th anniversary.  Obviously, if you do the math, you'll notice that this anniversary was not a wedding anniversary since you can't marry when you're 11 years-old . . . at least not in California.  Rather, it was the anniversary of the day we met

Of the 25 years we've known each other, we've only been married for five and a half.  The other nineteen and half years were filled with our first kiss, holding hands, breaking up, remaining friends, watching each other fall in love (and live) with other people, helping each other through breakups, and encouraging each other in our careers.  We had the privilege of watching each other grow from children into adults, and now we get to watch our own children grow. 

When you marry your oldest friend, you know without a single doubt that you'll be married till death do you part.  You know your union has roots that run as deep, if not deeper, than the roots of the redwood outside your kitchen window.  You know that the trust is so strong, you never have to think about it.  Ever.  For a person who comes from a family that acts as if spouses are expendable, knowing all of this brings me enormous comfort.

However -- I don't let it bring me too much comfort.  And Husband doesn't either.  Instead, we like to feel a wee bit of discomfort to help keep on our toes.

See, rather than assuming love is either unconditional or conditional, Husband and I decided before we married that it is both.  We decided this because we think the belief that spouses should always love each other and never leave each other -- or that it is a spouse's "job" to love you no matter what -- can (at least for some people, and I don't think either of us want to find out if we're one of them), drive a partner to act as they choose without considering the other person.  Believing only in unconditional love essentially permits us to nag as we wish, be controlling, treat our partners like one of the children, expect our partner to meet our needs while giving very little or nothing in return, ridicule daily, bicker constantly, and essentially do as we please whenever we want because it is the job of our husband or wife to never ever leave us and always love us. 

(While this thinking may seem extreme, every named behavior in that last sentence was based on married couples I know or have known.)

In our view, love is unconditional when your spouse gets cancer and all of his or her hair falls out.  In such a horrible situation, you stay by their side, support them, care for them, and let them know they're still beautiful or handsome.  But love is conditional in the daily life of a marriage, when you're going through the routine of cooking meals, doing laundry, bathing the kids, mowing the lawn, cleaning the house, paying the bills -- all that unglamorous, unromantic, un-tragic, and mundane shit where those behaviors I described above can so easily occur.   It is conditional because if Husband were to control me, or ridicule me, I'd feel more anger and dislike than love towards him.  Likewise, if I were nagging Husband, bickering with him daily, or treating him like one of the children, he would probably feel more anger and dislike than love towards me.

The belief that love is both conditional and unconditional reminds us to treat each other with kindness and respect daily, not just when something tragic happens, and not just on our birthdays or at Christmas.  It reminds us not to take each other for granted.  It keeps us on our toes.

When you've known each other as long as Husband and I have, I think it would be really easy to slip into taking each other for granted in so many ways as we go through the daily routine of our life together.  That's why I'm glad we determined together beliefs from which to operate, beliefs that allow us to feel secure in our marriage but also keep us on our toes, so we don't take each other for granted. 

This makes me look forward to the next 25 years of knowing each other.

September 15, 2006

Destiny

"Isn't it incredible that the GAP wedded my love of AC/DC and your love of Audrey Hepburn in the same commercial?  It's all destiny and shit."

"Destiny?"

"Yeah, it's further proof our love was meant to be."

"You are so romantic."

[making-out ensues]

August 20, 2006

We SO Wang Chunged Last Night

Last night, I stuffed my post-pregnancy-wide feet into pointy high heels, slid into my favorite black, bottom-hugging skirt, and pulled a waist-slimming but boob-enhancing knit camel top over my now chin-length head of hair.  As I stumbled my way downstairs like a schoolgirl wearing mommy's 3-inch heels, I could hear Husband explaining who the hell Luke Perry is to the babysitter.  When I walked in, the sitter's face showed absolutely no sign of recognition -- even after Husband described that little show known as Beverly Hills 90210

God, we're old.

When I looked at the television, I realized they were discussing the man with the nod who once made young girls swoon -- with the exception of this one -- because the Wheel of Fortune contestant looked quite a bit like him.  And Dumbo.  My God, I had no idea human ears could be the size of my feet, which, according to my father, are so large I could probably be the next barefoot water skiing champion of the world,  if only I applied myself.  And liked water skiing.

Anyway . . .

Husband looked very James Bond (I prefer Sean Connery, but Husband has Roger's coloring) in his suit and tie, and was so very suave and smooth as he rushed ahead of me to open my car door, which I almost didn't let him do because I had no idea what the hell he was doing. 

When we arrived at the restaurant, we gave the bottle of Dom Perignon, vintage 1996, given to Husband by some vendor trying to get his business, to the hostess to chill.  As the petite young thang glided with total ease to the bar in her 3-inch heels and bottom-hugging skirt, I asked Husband one more time, "Are you sure that's not Don Perignom?"  You see, it's not that I don't know the name of that classy cliche champagne, it's that I can't believe some vendor gave it away to a potential customer, who, by the way, remains potential to this day.  He swore it was the real thing, and while I don't know for sure, I can tell you that it was very, very tasty -- says the woman who would much rather drink a vodka martini than champagne.

For the next two hours we grazed on tomato heirloom salad, crab cakes, sauteed spinach, mahi mahi, and a petite filet cooked medium.  We gazed into each other's eyes, spoke without barely a pause, and laughed over memories, some very old, others very new.  We toasted our five years of near marital bliss and marveled over the next anniversary we get to celebrate early next year: 25 years of friendship. 

After downing the last of the ice cream topped with a lit candle by our bucking-for-an-awesome-tip waiter, we left the restaurant hand-in-hand, our bellies perfectly full, and our cheeks glowing -- oh, and we were giggling.  Well, I was giggling, and Husband was doing whatever manly men do instead of giggling.  I believe it's "chuckling."

When we arrived home, we hurried the babysitter out the door, went upstairs, and engaged in an intimacy that had the excitement of infatuation and the sensuality that only comes with familiarity. 

When I woke up this morning, my cheeks were still glowing (the ones on my face, that is), and there was a spring in my step. 

God, we're young.

August 02, 2006

This is Why I Buy My Clothes at Target

"I got a really nice compliment today."

"Really?"

"Yeah.  I was called 'pretty.'"

"That's nice.  By whom?"

"Oh, some guy."

"Some guy?  What?  Some random guy just walked up to you on the street and called you pretty?"

"On the street?  Honey, you know people don't walk in LA.  And, no, it wasn't some random guy."

"Then who was it?"

"Just a guy."

"Who told you you're pretty."

"Well, he didn't tell me I was pretty."

"He didn't tell you?  Then who did?"

"His mother."

"His mother told you you're pretty?"

"Noo.  His mother told me that her son called me pretty."

"Uh-huh.  This 'guy' wouldn't happen to be 3 years old and in Tod-lar's class would he?"

"So what if he is?  When you're walking around with some sort of dried bodily fluid on your clothes 99% of the time, you take what you can get."

"I was wondering what that was on your shirt."

July 07, 2006

Single Parenting While Married

When Tod-lar was born, Husband proved himself to be a very hands-on father.  He spent the first month of Tod-lar's life at home, waking every two hours during the night to change poopy diapers and provide words of encouragement as I struggled to attach the little guy to my weary body.  He willingly cradled Tod-lar during his inconsolable screaming fits.  He got up with Tod-lar in the morning, allowing me to get at least four consecutive hours of sleep.  After Husband went back to work, he took over Tod-lar's evening routine so I could have a little time to myself.  And he insisted on doing the 1 a.m. feeding, despite having to get up for work the next day. 

When we moved to where we live now, and Husband started at a new firm, he spent the first month working what seemed to be non-stop.  That's when he also stopped helping me with Tod-lar.  It was only after I'd fed, changed, and bathed Tod-lar that Husband would take him for a little playtime.  After a month of single parenting, I decided it was time for a "Come to Jesus" talk. 

"Look, I understand that you're busy at work, and you need to make a good impression at this new firm. And I really appreciate how hard you work for our family.  I also understand that it's really important for Tod-lar to spend as much time with you as possible so he can know you and you can know him.  You're great at playing with Tod-lar, and you absolutely need to keep doing that because you both love it.  But if you really want to get to know him, you need to see him in situations other than play.  This means changing his diapers, giving him his baths, feeding him, dressing him, all that shit.  When you do that stuff with him, you're teaching him and you're getting to see how he does things and see the choices he makes.  Spending quality time with him right now, in this time of his life, is doing all that crap that feels like work."

Husband looked at me.  I looked at him.  And then I saw the light bulb go on over his head.  It's been shining brightly ever since and has shown no need of replacing. 

Granted, for a little more than two years after that conversation, Husband didn't work as many hours as he did that first month at the firm.  It was easy for him to be a part of the kids routine since he rarely worked weekends or evenings.  Lately, however, Husband is not only working evenings and weekends, he's even working in the middle of the night.  That's when I hear his thumbs clicking away at that fucking portable office -- the inventor of which should be tarred, feathered, and dragged through the streets so every wife, husband, mother, father, and child, can get the pleasure of spitting at him or her.  I mean, do we really need Husband's client entering our bedroom at fucking 3 a.m. just because Husband woke up to take a whiz?  Do clients and corporations, and fucking law firms have no respect for family?  Don't they give a shit that this is how our life will be for the next YEAR, and maybe, just maybe, we could have ONE night where that fucking device doesn't blink it's green light, telling the world that it has received yet another fucking email from that overly-demanding client, right in the middle of Husband and I having relations?  No.  No, they clearly don't give a flying piece of SHIT.  At least not in this money-grubbing, overly individualistic, only-defines-success-by-how-many-hours-you-work-and-how-much-money-you-make country.

[brushes hair away from face, revealing flushed cheeks] Sorry about that . . . I'm back now.

Anyway, I can't really blame Husband for this situation.  Yes, yes, he chose to take this case with the client who never sleeps and who, I hope, burns in hell for all eternity, but if I were he, I would have chosen it, too, since it's the type of case that can secure his position at the firm.  Besides, it's temporary.  It's a temporary, hellish situation with a good long-term gain for our family -- not just Husband.  At least that's what we keep telling ourselves.

But that light-bulb?  Despite his working long hours, Husband somehow manages to keep it shining brightly.  Sometimes he's up clicking away on that berry thing because he got up to console Tod-lar who was awakened by a bad dream.  And when he comes home after a 13-hour day at the office, he changes his clothes as quickly as he can and helps me give the kids their baths.  Just the other morning, I found him in Tod-lar's room with the sleeves to his button-down shirt rolled up, laughing at Tod-lar's jokes while wiping poop off the kid's butt.

So, yeah, the next year is going to be really difficult.  And, undoubtedly, there will be stretches of time when I'm single parenting because that life-sucking client will keep Husband chained to his desk for 48 hours straight.  But at least I know I have a husband who wants to be, knows how to be, and will do his damnedest to be an active member of this family.  For that, I love him even more than the day I married him. 

July 06, 2006

Evidence I Was Born in Southern California

[The following conversation occurred the other night after flicking from Seinfeld to a show we highly recommend you never ever see because watching it is likely to cause your synapses to unwire, forcing any intellect you have to ooze out your ears.]

"Why do those two characters, who are about to get married, keep calling each other by their last names?"

"I don't know."

"That reminds me of a boyfriend I had in high school.  He ALWAYS called me by my last name.  It drove me nuts.  I mean, why would you call your partner by their last name instead of something more intimate?"

"You mean like 'Dude?'"

"Psh.  Whatever, Dude."

May 21, 2006

Happy Birthday, Husband

Yesterday was Husband's 35th birthday.  To celebrate, we took the kids to the carousel and went out to lunch.  Then we stopped off at the store to get Husband a little present for later that night:

P5210075_1

He looked quite smashing in it.

March 22, 2006

It's Like a Really Bad Game of Telephone

Remember playing “Telephone” as a kid?  You’d sit in a circle with a bunch of friends and you’d whisper something to the kid next to you and she would turn and whisper what you said to the kid next to her and so on until the last kid would announce what you’d said and she’d say something like, “I like tight jeans!” and we’d all laugh because what you really said was “I like ice cream!”  Remember that?

Well, for the last several days there’s been a really bad game of telephone being played on the web.  It seems that my unintentional highly controversial post, which I thought had an overall message of “people in an intimate relationship should be considerate of each other and understand that their physical appearance, and any MAJOR change to it, can affect their partner and their relationship” has turned into “all women need to be thin for their husbands,” or “only looks matter in a relationship,” or “fat people are bad,” or “ALL fat people are depressed and have no self-respect,” or “people can’t change – ever,” or “only long hair is attractive,” and the list goes on and on and on.

So let me clarify a few things.

1.         No, I do NOT think all women need to be thin for their husbands. 

This should have been obvious when I said in my post, “if I had been 160 pounds when we married that would one thing.  Then it would be totally unreasonable for him to want me to be 120 pounds.  If I thought all women needed to be bone thin for their husbands, then that quote would have read, “men have every right to ask their 160 pound wives to be 120 pounds.”  But that’s NOT what I wrote.

2.         Not all overweight people are depressed or lack self-respect. 

What’s interesting is that the context of the conversation seems to have been lost.  The conversation in my post took place in my psychopathology class. Depression is a pathology.  One of the criterions for depression is excessive weight gain in a short period of time (5% of total body weight within a month).  I didn’t make that up, the people who wrote the DSM IV did.  This is part of the reason why I linked depression and weight gain.  The other reason is because I’M naturally and have always been thin, it would be perfectly reasonable for Husband to think I was depressed if I had gained excessive weight – especially in a short period of time. 

3.         My post is really about spouses – not just women. 

If Husband wanted to grow a beard, I would hope he would first discuss it with me since he’s never had one.  If I decided to go blonde (which I would never do – no offense to you blondes out there), I’m sure Husband hopes I would first discuss this with him.  Before I got my braces, which I have on both bottom and upper teeth and must wear for 2 years, I consulted with husband (plus, there’s a cost issue here). 

If you’re in a relationship, it is only considerate to the other person to check-in with her or him if you want to make a big change to your physical appearance.  I understand that no one thinks, “Gee, I think I’ll gain a bunch of weight now.”  But given we check in about other issues, it would be totally reasonable to check-in about this one as well.     

4.         Physical appearance is not the only thing that affects sexual attraction.

Back in my single days, I met plenty of men who were attractive upon first meeting only to turn into ugly toads once I got to know them.  Physical appearance is only part of the equation for sexual attraction -- but it IS part of the equation and should not be ignored no matter how much we think it shouldn’t be.  If it weren’t we’d all find each other equally physically attractive.  But we don’t.  We’re people with preferences. 

5.         I know not everyone can control their weight.

However, many overweight people can.  Just ask my mother or any of her four sisters.  I’ve seen these women look FANTASTIC at size 14, only to stop exercising, go back to eating fast food and end up being severely overweight again.  The exercise, the food – those things they can control with choices, and they know this.  What I would hate is for these women to give up and think they can’t control their weight just because they’ll never be a size 2 (hell, I’ll never be a size 2), and then rationalize not exercising or making better food choices. 

6.         Let’s talk about false advertising.

I used this term for several reasons.  First, there is a certain amount of “advertising” of self that goes on while single.  Do you remember what it’s like being single in your late 20’s and 30’s?  Just go to any bar or restaurant on a Friday or Saturday night.  Or check out www.match.com.  Can you honestly say people aren’t advertising themselves to a certain extent?

Second, I was thinking about the woman in my class who admitted “plumping up” once she’s comfortable in her relationship.  She’s basically admitted she doesn’t have to be concerned about her weight because she’s secure in her relationship, yet before her relationship, she was concerned.  Isn’t it possible that she projected a health/weight conscious image before her relationship but is now projecting a “hey, I’m comfortable in our relationship now, so I don’t need to be health/weight conscious anymore?”  Isn’t it too bad she did this instead of just being herself from the beginning?  Was this intentional?  Did she mean to deceive her significant other?  Probably not.  But if she’s aware of it, why isn’t she doing anything about it?  And I wonder what her partner would think about that.  Isn’t it possible that her partner might feel he’s being taken for granted in some way because she doesn’t care what he thinks?

The real issue with false advertising is not whether women should feel the need to project our culture’s fucked-up view of beauty – it’s why so many people feel the need to be someone other than who they are.  Like my friends who did grow their hair long to help attract men when they really preferred it short.  Isn’t it too bad they did this?  Shouldn’t they have just kept it short?  (And for the record, I used to have REALLY short hair – I’m talking above-the-ear short.  I didn’t like it, so I grew it long.  But I will cut my hair to my chin again when I go grey, and yes I’ve discussed it with husband because that’s only considerate and it may be happening much sooner than later.)  Or what about my friend whose husband used to hike with her before they married but now that they are married all he wants to do is sit at home and watch TV?  Shouldn’t he have just done this from the beginning?

7.         I did NOT say your spouse will LOVE you less if you gain weight.

I suggested that one’s spouse might feel less physically attracted.  That is a possibility.  Just ask several of my readers who were brave and honest enough to comment about their experiences with this.  Does it mean their spouses LOVE them any less?  No. Does it mean their spouses are superficial fucks?  Maybe some are, but maybe some aren’t.  And maybe the ones who aren’t are just being honest.  I would rather my husband be honest, in a kind way, rather than harbor resentment towards me. 

8.         I was not talking about people with a history of eating disorders.

Some people have a very complex relationship with food.  One of my dear, dear friends has been in Overeaters Anonymous since I met her 16 years ago.  She still attends meetings on a regular basis (and is doing fantastic!).  Other women won’t eat, or they binge and purge.  If you’ve had a history of eating disorders in your life, my post was NOT talking about you.  So no, if you were a thin anorexic the day you married, I hope you never, ever go back to that weight again.  In fact, I hope you’ve “plumped up” and your spouse should hope so too because it means you’re healthy. 

I think those are the main points I wanted to address as I read your posts, comments on other blogs, and your hate email.  I understand that this issue is a loaded one and that there are a million different couples with a million different stories out there.  So please remember what my main point was:  people in an intimate relationship should be considerate of each other and understand that their physical appearance, and any MAJOR change to it, can affect their partner and their relationship.

I will leave comments open to this post so long as people post constructive arguments and are not mean and hateful.  For those who have left mean and hateful comments or want to leave them, I ask you to seriously look within yourselves and ask yourself where that hate is coming from and whether or not it is really directed towards me – especially since you don’t even know me. 

To those of you who have been emailing me and sharing your stories, I just can’t tell you how much I admire you, your honesty, and your ability to face your struggles head-on.  I wish the absolute best for you. 

Finally, I am reminded of what my Life Drawing instructor used to tell me when I was in art school: “Draw what you SEE, don’t draw what you THINK you see.” 

Please HEAR what I am saying, don’t just hear what you THINK I’m saying. 

March 17, 2006

False Advertising

A few weeks after our wedding, I happened to mention to Husband my need for a haircut. 

“You’re not going to chop off all your hair now that we’re married, are you?” he asked nervously.

While his anxiety made me laugh, I knew it wasn’t unfounded.  I had plenty of friends who had grown their hair long while single, only to cut it all off in favor of a “practical style” soon after the nuptials.  I always thought this a bit unfair – sort of like false advertising.  These women used their long hair to attract their husbands, but once the deal was sealed, they’d cut it all off. 

Husband breathed a sigh of relief when I explained that “haircut” in this instance only meant a “trim.”

Recently, in my psychopathology class, I was reminded of this conversation with Husband.  My classmates and I were discussing a journal article on bulimia nervosa and speculative reasons were being tossed around as to why the majority of the women sampled were married. 

“Maybe married women feel more pressure to be thin for their husbands,” one young, unmarried classmate said. 

“Really?  Because when I’m in a relationship, I get all comfortable and actually tend to plump up,” said another, very honest young woman to my left. 

“Well, first I don’t think it’s fair to say that being married caused these women to be bulimic – especially since being in a relationship can make one conscious about one’s weight just as being single can.  When you’re single, you want to be in good shape not just for yourself, but so that you can feel confident about how you look and feel like you can attract a partner.  When you’re married – and especially after having kids – you’re conscious about your weight, which may motivate you to watch what you eat and exercise, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll develop an eating disorder.  I am conscious of my weight, so I don’t snack, and I exercise.  Personally, I think it would be unfair to Husband if I gained a bunch of weight and did nothing about it.” 

My remarks were met with a stunned silence that quickly faded into an uproar.

“I TOTALLY disagree with you.”

“Your husband should love you no matter how much you weigh.”

“So what you’re saying is that Husband would have the right to divorce you for gaining weight after having kids?”

“Wait a minute,” I said, shaking my head.  “I never said anything about divorce.  Of course he wouldn’t have the right to divorce me for such a thing.  But he would have the right to tell me he noticed I had gained quite a bit of weight, and I didn’t appear to be doing anything about it, and then ask me if I was depressed.” 

“What if Husband went bald?  Would you have the right to ask him to do something about it?”

“Honestly, I don’t think that’s a fair analogy.  He can’t control his hair falling out, but I can control my weight, assuming I don’t have a medical condition that prevents me from doing so.” 

“Wait a minute.  This is really interesting,” said the young woman who admitted to getting plump once in a relationship.  “I never thought about it this way.  So you think you always need to be the weight you were when you married?”

“No, because some weight gain is inevitable with age.  Five years ago when Husband and I married, I was 120 pounds.  I now weigh 125.  I would have to use extreme measures to get back down to 120.  That’s not a weight gain I can control within reason.  However, if I’d maintained the 40 pounds I’d gained during pregnancy, well, that would be unfair since I can actually do something about that.”

“What if Husband got fat?  Would you leave him?”

“No, I wouldn’t leave him.  But I would ask him about it.  I would be concerned that he was depressed.  And I might become less physically attracted to him, just as he might become less physically attracted to me if I’d maintained the pregnancy weight.”

“That’s really superficial,” quipped the woman sitting across from me.

“Is it?  Don’t you find people more attractive when they exhibit self-respect?”  I asked.

“Well, I suppose.”

“And if a person who used to be thin became very overweight and did nothing about it, wouldn’t you feel like that person was losing their self-respect?  Again, assuming they had no medical condition.” 

“But what if, as you said, that person is depressed?”

“Well, isn’t one of the problems with depression low self-esteem?  Don’t depressed people feel less self-respect? ” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Can you imagine still maintaining the same level of physical attraction for your mate when he’s depressed?”

She thought for a moment.  “No.”

“Right.  Look, my point is, I work to maintain my figure for myself and my husband.  If I had been 160 pounds when we married that would one thing.  Then it would be totally unreasonable for him to want me to be 120 pounds.  But it would be false advertising if he’d married his 120 pound girlfriend and ended up with a 160 pound wife.”

Interweb, what do you think?

Why "Morphing into Mama?"

  • When I started this blog, I chose to call it “Morphing Into Mama” because I want to be in a perpetual state of “becoming” a mama. I never want to just sit on my laurels and think that just because I birthed two children I am entitled to their love and respect. No, I want to be more than a “mama” in name. I want my behavior to always demonstrate my mamaness. I want to earn my children's love and respect through very loving, active, and conscientious parenting.

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