Why Wouldn’t This Be Workplace Of The Week?

I love a good take down of sexist crap. This one by John Oliver last night? Fantastic.

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What Should I Give Up For Lent?

I’m not Catholic or Orthodox or one of those other penance heavy religions, but growing up, my mom and I would usually give something up for Lent. We usually opted for the clichéd stuff—soda, candy, sweets, frozen cokes (ahem, Tammy.) One year, Mom decided her sailor’s mouth was out of control so she gave up swearing. This went over very well, until she hit her knee on something, said a choice 4-letter word, then, realizing she’d broken her lenten promise, exclaimed the 4-letter word all over again. Vicious Cycle. Hilarious Vicious Cycle.

Anyway, this year I had thought about it a lot, but couldn’t quite land on something. What should I give up for Lent? Well, my biggest vices are really Diet Coke, wine and coffee but I think my mental well-being prevents those as viable options for giving up. Plus, I won’t lie. I don’t really want to, and can’t think of a single positive I gain from giving them up. And, since we’ve already covered the “not Catholic” thing, that was always my Lent goal—to do something positive, or better myself.

But this morning, I came across a post by a Facebook friend, from a guy who goes by “The Fat Pastor” (I didn’t name him, don’t start). He suggested writing letters for Lent and I kind of love the idea. I had just been thinking in the last few weeks, how many people I haven’t touched base with in a while or how many people deserved “Thank You’s” from me, that hadn’t gotten them lately.

So, I’ve ordered some nice (Wonder Woman) stationary, stepped up my Postable game, and am ready to roll. I can’t promise I will stick to Fat Pastor’s prompts (see below) because… well, I’m not quite as spiritual as him and some of his prompts are stupid. (I’m sorry.)

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Anyway… consider yourself my accountability police. We’ll see how it goes. (Hopefully not as poorly as my New Year’s Resolution attempts… I”M JUST SO BAD AT THOSE.)

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Why Taylor, How Do You Write?

When I get an idea one of the following usually occurs:

  1. It seems like a great idea, so I begin writing. Entry finished. DONE!
  2. It seems like a great idea, I begin writing, and 1876 words later, I come up for air thinking, “Jesus, this thing needs to be edited. Why did I just word vomit a whole paragraph about bunnies? “
  3. It seems like a great idea so I open up WordPress, write one sentence and think, “Oh no. This is awful,” but I save it as a draft thinking, maybe one day, I will salvage it.
  4. It seems like a great idea so I open up WordPress, write maybe a full paragraph before thinking, “No. No, no, no. The person writing this is awful, you’re awful, never put this in the universe where someone might accidentally read it.” I immediately delete it. 
  5. It seems like a great idea, but I never actually bother to type anything, probably because I’ve gotten distracted by something else. Oops.

So, you ask yourself, “Why are you telling me this, Schaffer?”***

Well, I really wanted to write a blog post about people—about liking people on some sort of sliding scale and the difference in context and weird realizations about age and stuff. It basically only sounds insightful and deep in my head and, as much as I try, every single first sentence I’ve started with on this topic is horrible. HORRIBLE. So instead, I began making a list of all the ways my blog usually crashes and burns, although, sometimes, succeeds a little.

You’re welcome.

 

 

 

 

***No one calls me Schaffer. I wish they did.  I like my last name and have always had Philadelphia Story fantasies of a cool, sexy nickname. But, let me be clear, NO one calls me this.

The closest I’ve ever come was an ex that called me by my middle name. Not quite the same, but cute.

 

In conclusion, this aside is pointless, except for serving to further prove, that I am a confusing writer and that my children will be girly as hell with really strange, non-girly first name, first names. And they will hate me for that. 

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Can we please stop with the whole #NoMakeup thing?

The Today Show did this thing yesterday—No Make-Up Monday where their whole on-air crew, men and women, went make-up-less on high def airwaves for all to see.

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It was fine, I guess.

I mean, it’s nice to remind people that the highly-primmed and powdered faces greeting you at 7:00am are not the way anyone in their right mind looks that early. It’s actually not the way most people look, ever, because life isn’t tv and, at least for me, my personal stylist has been AWOL for 24 years. I’ve come to terms with it, mostly, except those rare days, when my wardrobe just won’t produce a viable outfit.

Anyway, like most trendy things the Today Show insists on doing, it is not new. The whole “no make-up” call to action has lived on blogs and sites and social media for a while now, telling women to ditch make-up and reclaim their natural beauty because we get “tricked into thinking that we, as girls and women, have to wear it,” and ditching the make-up “can help women who are self conscious without makeup gain some of their confidence back.”

Ugh. Seriously?

Look. I like make-up. I like liquid eyeliner and red lipstick and mascara. I like fake eyelashes and, in a pinch, I can do a presentable smoky eye in a moving car, that I, myself, am driving. I wear make-up to go to work, I wear make-up to go out, sometimes I smack make-up on to go run errands. And, I hate to break it to you all, but there is nothing particularly wrong with my self-esteem or my self-image—at least nothing that make-up gets the rap for. I just like it.

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Lipstick? Check. Prominent liner? Check. Obvious desire to appear alluring? Duh.

For me, while I’ve never been particularly good at doing my hair or styling my wardrobe… my make-up routine is… mine. I drink coffee, watch the news (or the Today Show, which we will classify as news-adjacent), and go through my routine. Some days it’s minimal—this morning I was still so pooped from a weekend filled with Disney Magic, 13.1 miles and much too early wake-up calls, to do much. Other days… I’ll admit it, it’s full on drag-y. We’ve already covered my love of a smoky eye-right?

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The Schaffer Three: A Long Line of Made-Up Ladies.

And before I act like there have been no outside influences on this—I come from a long line of women who believe make-up is a must on the ladylike check list. I grew up sitting at my mom’s make-up table, watching her get ready and wanting to use all the fancy brushes and colors and pots. I’ve often heard the phrase “no make-up” used to describe someone, in a way that implied (or explicitly pointed out) that they “didn’t bother to put themselves together” and—yeah, I grew up with the type of Grandma who, 36 hours after my wreck last spring, pointed out that I “must not feel like getting ready,” upon seeing my make-up free face.

But what I see when I look in the mirror, what I see when I go to work and experience life and whatever else, what I see is mine. And somedays, that is make-up free. Some days that looks like a Sephora experiment. More often than not, it is something in the middle. And part of being a woman, part of my experience, part of what I want, is an acceptance of whatever version of that I choose.

Yet, when I read people’s comments about going make-up free, railing against the institution, talking about how we must be doing it for others, for men, for attention, I cringe. Aren’t we selling ourselves short to imply that we are so easily manipulated, that our standard for ourselves must be to please someone else? And that if we want to reject make-up, we must do it publicly, with a day and a hashtag, in order to separate ourselves from those who aren’t as evolved? Aren’t we just coming up with yet another standard to measure women by?

Plus—to what end are we pushing this on people? Do advocates for the no make-up phenomenon believe that if we all just post enough pictures of our bare faces, we are… proving something? That those who do it, are somehow better adjusted, or more secure than those choosing make-up? And taking to social media, is the way to fix it?

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Oh. And one more, while we’re at it. Let’s talk about a key component of the #NoMakeupMonday phenomenon—the selfie.  Look at the pictures I pulled from social media, searching the hashtag #NoMakeupMonday… Doesn’t it just feel like a plea for a compliment? That’s not empowering. That’s desperate. And sometimes just icky.

So here’s my proposal:

Go be interesting.

Live an interesting life. Do what you love, do what makes you happy and stop feeling like your make-up, or lack of make-up, is the story you have to tell or the badge you have won.

Should you decide to rail against some injustice to women, for the love of God, spend more time on pay inequity or legislative maneuvers making women’s access to health care more difficult. Go fight for educational opportunities for women around the world or an end to sexual assault. Speak up for better representation—in government, in media, in business, everywhere. Respect all the distinct and varied ways women want to be seen and heard. Celebrate that. Celebrate the progress that has been made, and fight for the progress to come, so that the choices your daughter will have, are even more plentiful.

Read. Learn. Discuss.

Do all those things, and then maybe just one more—the next time you want to celebrate your beauty and your power… put down the damn iPhone and try… well, almost anything else. 

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Jessica Williams Deserves ALL The Mic Drops For This

This is seriously one of my favorite Daily Show clips in a while—I was laughing aloud. Alone. At my desk. Like a crazy person.

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Redefining Beauty

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=BFkm1Hg4dTI

This may be a branded ad campaign, but it is also so resonate, I swear I’m tearing up.

So just stop whatever you’re doing and watch this.

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Help me! #Read26Indy

So first, I saw this:

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Which led me to this:

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Look—I am not proud of this realization but it’s 100% true.

And before you get all judgy—I read all the time. I read articles on so many topics, it makes my head hurt to go back through my web history. I have 5 different news apps on my phone, meaning I can learn things from the comfort of my bed, tub, treadmill or dog park. (Try not to over think those logistics.) Newspapers, magazines, articles—I consume information constantly.

But… I don’t usually take the time to read books all that often. I spent so much of my younger life reading EVERYTHING, that now I rarely read a book that isn’t tied to work life. And now, now I’m so out of the habit of reading, I forget to seek books out. I don’t even have anything on my list. 

In conclusion, help! What do I need to read? And before you start throwing shit my way, here are my rules:

-Nothing that will make me hate myself (Vampires, Nicholas Sparks, anything that is turned into a movie teenagers line up for.)

-Nothing that will make my inner feminist vomit (50 Shades of Anything.)

-Nothing that makes me cry or angry. (Don’t you even dare tell me it’s a “good” cry. At the moment I want to be entertained. Or amused. Or learn something great. I don’t want a depressing read or a lecture. If you break this, I will come FIND YOU.)

-If it’s romance, it better not be the kind Cameron Diaz or Katherine Higel would star in.

-If you want reference, the last few books I’ve read for fun are Let’s Pretend This Never Happened, Bossypants, Lost at Sea and maybe some of the Sylvia Day series, DONT YOU DARE JUDGE ME, IM NOT PROUD OF IT AND I JUST HAPPENED TO BE SOMEWHERE IT WAS LAYING AROUND AND I READ IT IN A DAY SO WHATEVER THAT ITS BASICALLY PORN.

Ok. That’s all I have right now. YOUR TURN, help me!

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7 Hip Curves.

Last week, in an effort to update my workout/hanging out wardrobe, I took advantage of Target’s 30% off workout attire. I picked up some more sports bras (I love theirs), a pull over and… another pair of running tights.

I was on the phone while shopping, chatting with a friend, but I really was paying attention. I looked at sizing for each item and decided on a medium for the tights before moving on to the “grocery” side of the store.

Fine. Totally innocuous shopping trip that makes for a super boring story.

Until I got ready to run the next day, pull out the tights and notice… “Hmmm… Medium. 7-8. That’s not normal women’s sizing… In fact, that’s usually child’s sizing.” And then I put them on… And that? That was… rough. The tights barely covered my bum and are so snug, I have about 7 hips happening. (7. Don’t argue with the logistics.)

So I come up with the bright idea of looking the tights up online.

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And there we are…

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Resolution Conclusion (Kind of. You may have to hear me blather all year.)

So I came to the conclusion that I am way too ADD for big goals. Look, a little bit of snow (8 inches, but whatever) was enough to sidetrack me completely from my series, never to return to the nice orderly schedule I originally had in mind.

Therefore, I came to the conclusion that I need baby steps—tiny pieces of tackle-able goals. And look, I’m not saying they’re going to be all that thrilling for you to follow along with but, screw you, this blog is basically a diary that 7 of you happen to have come across while snooping through my bedroom (HOW DARRRRE YOU. Probably don’t open my top dresser drawer) when that one time I invited you over for coffee. Or Diet Coke. Or to pick up a dead mouse my dog killed.

Whatever.

Anyway, baby steps. Think of yourself as the Richard Dryfus to my Bill Murray.

Things We’re Thinking About Today (And probably tomorrow. Or not, because I got distracted by something shiny.)

  • Nails, or lack there of.
    I have a tendency of biting my nails. Then I paint them, go through a phase of taking prenatal vitamins (what? they’re good for my nails and hair) and grow them out—only to get stressed, bite them all off, and be ready to start all over. So yeah- I’m starting this process again.
  • Hair, Hair, Hair.
    I have the world’s most shed-dy dog. My life is basically just one big hairball and sometimes, I stop fighting it, leaving my usual dark colored wardrobe covered in hair. This month I’m going to do my best to tackle it- more lint rollers, more brushing, less…. submission.
  • Getting Ready for the Disney Princess Half Marathon
    I’m just 41 days from running my happy little self through Walt Disney World and I’m excited, but also a little stressed. I have a costume to complete (I ordered 720 rhinestones this morning. I feel there is a blog post in the making there), training to complete, and a bruised, injured, self to try and make less-sucky.
  • Remember This?
    Yeah, I’m working on tackling this too. More details to follow on my efforts- I had a bit of a massive, epic, what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-you fail this weekend. And it was good.

So- that’s where we are. You know, in case you’ve been wondering, or didn’t care at all. :)

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5 Stages of Grief

 

“I’ve processed all my feelings and I’ve gone through the five stages of grief. Denial, anger, Internet commenting, cat adoption, African dance, cat returning to the adoption place, watching all the episodes of Murphy Brown and not giving a flying fart.” -Parks and Rec

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