Well THAT makes Sense

On Sunday, while innocently perusing the magazines at my local up-scale grocery story (hello Lunds you sexy thing), I was subject to a weight comment by the man standing behind me in line. I had picked up a copy of the Weight Watchers magazine, only to have this man say quite loudly "Well...THAT makes sense!" He was alone and not on the phone. He was not looking at any magazines himself. That comment was directed at me. Fat me looking at a weight loss magazine. And in my stunned silence, it was my turn to hit the register and leave so I did not say a thing. And that pissed me off big time.

Let's get beyond the fact that this man felt it necessary to commnent on a total stranger. His lack of boundaries. Let's even get beyond wondering if perhaps he has a social disease of some sort..the kind that renders it's victims unable to filter the thoughts in their head from their ever-moving mouths, making us all victims of their self-defined wisdom and brilliance. Let's instead look at what makes a complete stranger feel they have a right to comment on something that is just none of their business. The right to feel that someone's body is somehow public domain and open to scruitiny and judgement. I'm not naive enough to think that we are not looking at each other and making judgements in our minds, but most of us have the decency to keep it to ourselves.

In some ways, this is no different really than walking by a construction site and getting wolf whistles and catcalls from the workers. It's all about judgement and all about women's bodies being considered public property for men to oogle, judge, fantasize about, be repelled by, and comment on. And that pissed me off.

But in the midst of my anger..and yes, I was angry, I suddenly realized that old saying "what you think of me is none of my business." I love that sentiment. People are always going to have opinions and judgement. The fact that this man felt inclined to share his, has no reflection on me. That is a liberating thought. What you think of me is none of my business.

I now realize that if I could go back, I would simply turn to him and smile warmly and say "I really wish you a happy day and love in your life." I wouldn't perpetuate his negative mood by adding to it with my own. He has no bearing on how I live my life and maybe he's really unhappy with his to feel it so necessary to put his negativity out in the universe. So...super positive powers ignite. I'm turning it around to something positive and THAT makes sense!

One Year

I was saddened to hear that a friend of my family suffered a stroke last week and is probably not going to survive. Even though she's quite elderly (87?), I am quite sure she didn't wander through life thinking "perhaps THIS is the week I will die." And it brings home the vulnerability of knowing that we can't know. And it has led to me wondering what I would do if I was told I had only 1 week or 1 month, or even 1 year, left to live.


1. I would eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. Of course, I largely do this now, so maybe this should simply be to continue doing so.

2. I would love freely and without worrying about being loved back.

3. I would walk on the shores of Lake Superior alot. When I die, I will totally miss the sound of waves on the shore. It's one of the most delightful sounds, right up there with thunder, rain and applause.

4. I would visit all the places I have never been that I lust after. Egypt. Argentina. France. Britain. Iceland. I would want to stand on chilly wind-swept beaches and in front of the world's most beautiful works of art.

5. I would buy the most beautiful lingere and wear it every single day. No more Jockey cotton underwear for this girl!

6. I would put up a Christmas tree and keep it up all year.

7. I would always say "I love you" when I hang up the phone..even if I'm talking to someone at the bank.

8. I would listen to music every day.

9. I would shut off the television and stop buying People Magazine because frankly, why take up precious time with this dribble?

10. I would have beautiful hair cuts and color, manicures, pedicures, and massages all the time. In fact, pampering would be my formal occupation.

11. I would not get botox injections however.

12. Maybe I would start really believing in God. I don't know if I believe in God so much as a universe that works in mysterious ways. I want to trust and believe.

Baby New Year is Laughing Already!

"This year for Christmas, we all drew names. I got "Jonas Salk".
-Jodie Maruska

Happy Laughing New Year!

I had one of those weekends where things fell into place and I'm feeling super empowered and energized. Bring it on 2010! Sometimes the stars truly do align and sometimes you receive all sorts of amazing confirmation that you are heading in the right direction!

On Saturday I received in the mail a copy of the January issue of the Minnesota Women's Press containing my profile of friend, comic and producer goddess Rox Tarrant! Check the issue out at http://www.womenspress.com. Rox has been instrumental in the comedy careers of many of Minneapolis' funniest women and not only performs but has founded and produces such shows as Women Out all Night, a favorite in the Midwest. I am happy to say I am a regular in that show and blessed to count Rox as a good friend. The business of comedy remains challenging for women, but with people like Rox on our side it is a little bit easier, a little bit more supportive and a lot more encouraging. Besides, we are fricking hilarious!

So I pay homage and give a shout out to the funny women in my life both on-stage and off. Women like Rox, Brenda Elsagher, Mary Mack, Darlene Westgor, Jackie Kashian, Maria Bamford, Amber Preston, Kris Miles, LeAnn Diler, Maxine Jeffris, Diane Ford, Susie Saccoman, Laura Thorne, Nancy Norton, Leah Mansfield, and oh so many more! You make me proud to be a comic and I am continually amazed by your talent and grace.

I would like to add that Rox and I went to see Louie Anderson perform at Northrup on Saturday night and he continues to be a comedy star in every sense. Two hours. He was on stage, with the audience in the palm of his hand, for two hours. If you know that most headliners do 45-60 minutes for a show you can see how amazing that is. Opening for him the always brilliant and sweet Mary Mack. A lovely evening of laughter.

Wishing you all great humor and lots of laughter in the year to come!

What Will Fill you Up in 2010?

Happy New Year! It feels like just yesterday we were going to party like it's 1999 and suddenly its 2010. Whassuppppp with that!!!???

Like all good new year holidays, the media is awash in stories of great weight loss and the happiness that has ensued. This morning, the Today show featured People Magazine and some of the individuals who will be featured in annual "they've lost half their body weight" issue. The three people who had lost weight were shown in the usual dour-du-jour "before" pictures. They were wearing worn out sweatshirts and baggy t-shirts. Mom jeans seemed to the the norm. They were colorless, unkempt and unsmiling. The people pictured truly looked unhappy and why not? A baggy gray sweatshirt is the fashion equivalent to the Pinto. One wrong move and it blows up!

As Matt Lauer brought the weight loss people on to show them off in their new thin bodies, one of the women was wearing a cute purple silk dress with heels and yes, she looked awesome. But you know what? I wear cute dresses with high heels and I look awesome too. So do many large women who insist of wearing beautiful clothes and enjoying how they look. One of the other women who had lost weight said she loves knowing that people aren't looking at her any more. That at the grocery store she knew people were always looking at the food she was buying and now they wouldn't but she can watch other people look at large people and what they were buying. WTF? Why do we keep thinking it's ok that everyone stands in judgement of every move a fat person makes? Does it really even happen? Do people really have nothing better to do than watch what I'm putting into my basket at the grocery store?

Sigh. Bottom line is that the whole story was a reminder to me of how the media continually"sells" the idea that being fat is being dumpy and unhappy. And to be clear - I'm not telling anyone what they should or should not do. I'm just angry that we are sold the idea that we are defective because of our size and only able to achieve true happiness if we lose weight. They sell that so we buy diet plans and other items that have been repeatedly shown to be ineffective, yet....come and get it fat people! This diet, pill, exercise device, etc... is your great shining beacon in the darkness of ugly clothes and snoopy people at the grocery store! You'll lose weight (if only for awhile because we all know that diets don't work) and I'll make loads of money! And dammit, we have bought the idea. In fact, we continually buy it like we continually fill our tanks at the gas station. In this case however, instead of fuel, we are filling our tanks with self-hatred, sadness and judgement.

For the new year, I encourage us all to take back our choice and stop buying into someone elses idea of how we should look or be. The negative messages we hear only have power over us if we believe them and it's our choice to believe or not believe. What do you choose to believe? Do you really believe people have a right to stand in judgement of you and how you live your life simply because of your size? Do you really believe you cannot be happy just the way you are? Do you believe that only being thin leads to true happiness and fulfillment? Or would you rather believe that you are a divine human being worthy of autonomy, happiness, success, love and beauty no matter your size? I choose the later. No....I KNOW the later.

I'm also worthy of a great pair of black riding boots that fit my calves, but that's an entirely different post! First things first.

So I leave you with this simple thought to ponder as you celebrate the stat of a new year: What will fill you up in 2010?

Fashion Orgasm

The highlight of my Christmas? The total fashion orgasm I got from watching the documentary Valentino - The Last Emperor, which I received as a gift. http://www.valentinomovie.com/#home

The jet-set lifestyle surrounded by the most gorgeous gowns and clothing imaginable as designer extraordinaire Valentino prepared one of his last collections was total eye candy and fantasy viewing. Valentino was petulant, genius, childish, brilliant, stubborn and very very tan! I recommend the movie to anyone with a love of fashion and style.

Saturday was the most enjoyable and lovely day as I attended an annual Boxing Day party with GGF and his partner Jim, along with various family and friends. I found have a talent for the drums as we played Guitar Hero to the Beatles and what a blast that was, especially after imbibing some wine and champagne. Great food was eaten, including my very favorite chocolate truffles wrapped in white chocolate. There was alot of laughter and love. Divine.

The low point of my Christmas? Having my father comment on my weight and tell me "You look pretty heavy...you should join the Y." And Merry Christmas to you too Dad. I thought we were beyond this conversation; I thought I had set that very firm boundary so many years ago after years of his comments. His comments towards me regarding my weight began even before I would have been considered overweight or fat. And even though I realize his intention is pure, it feels like an invasion on something that is so personal. It's really difficult and it set the tone for my entire Christmas with my family. That said, I tried to let it go and realize that it's his issue entirely. This is what makes accepting our bodies so damned difficult and my wish for the new year is that I continue to find peace and serenity around this issue along with so many people who struggle with body acceptance.

In the words of Valentino as he stormed unhappily out of a meeting: "bye-bye"!

Went With the Funny

Early Comedy Memory. It’s a Saturday night in 1974 and the Maruska family is gathering together around the television. The golden child, my baby brother Paul, has probably been put down in his throne…I mean, crib. I loved my baby brother but he was clearly the favorite for my parents as evidenced on bath night when mom would say to me “why don’t you and your sister take your brother from his bath. Anoint his body with this scented oil and rose water and then lay him upon the alter we have built in his honor in the rec room. Then, you and your sister go upstairs, vacuum the living room, do the dishes and blacktop the driveway while your father and I worship at your brother’s feet and watch “The Jeffersons.”

By now it’s 8 pm and my sister is engrossed in making some jiffy pop popcorn, the total precursor to microwave popcorn in its glorious silver-bubble of greasy goodness that resulted from jerking an aluminum pan quickly across a hot burner while holding a metal handle. No liability involved in that idea. Come to think of it, in the 70’s, we also made pies by putting two slices of bread together and filling them with pie filling and then holding them in a roaring campfire barely an arms length away. It’s a wonder any of us survived.

At 7 pm on Saturday, my sister and I would have watched the exciting drama “Emergency” with it’s hunky young fire fighters and EMTs saving people involved in a variety of dramatic situations, many of them in canyons. I would go to sleep on Saturday nights fantasizing about finding myself in a horrible car accident in an unnamed canyon somewhere (Minnesota does not, as a general rule, have canyons but we do have some fairly large hills and wooded drop offs, often around lakes or rivers, so that would totally suffice for purposes of my fantasy.) The cute dark-haired fireman come to my rescue and then, through some bureaucratic snafu, end up adopting me and raising me as a single father who lets me hang out at the fire station as an unofficial mascot. This bedtime fantasy time would evolve at a later time to one of my parents divorcing and my being raised by two gay men. This particular fantasy has come the closest to actually coming true by the way.

But at 8 pm, the entire family hunkers down and comedy becomes the true star, first in the form of the Mary Tyler Moore show. While I probably always wanted to be Mary (what girl didn’t?) I always knew I would be more like a Rhoda (what girl isn’t?) A bit chubby, struggling with love, and living in a studio apartment while working a minimum wage job downtown. Ironically at the age of 46, Rhoda’s life is my life and I even have a gorgeous, stylish thin “Mary” in my life. His name is David.

At 8:30, the Bob Newhart show came on. Although I knew he couldn’t save his way out of any canyons, I loved Bob anyways. I especially loved the kicky theme song and the scene of him walking through Chicago on his way home to his high-rise apartment. I wonder if all of the 70’s sitcom focus on high-rises is largely why even today I crave the comfort and coziness of high-rise living. All the cool 70’s shows had people living in high-rises and that was the fantasy I took from this situation. No house in the burbs for this girl. In fact, when I lived in Chicago myself a few years ago, I had a studio apartment on the 28th floor of a highrise in the south loop that had a view of the Sears Tower, doormen and a small grocery story on the ground floor. I loved having the doorman hail me a cab and know that could easily have been Bob and Emily’s reality. I did not have sassy and funny neighbors however..that has yet to happen in any of my high-rise situations. I did once have a neighbor who would have sex with a very loud and enthusiastic woman in the summer when everyone’s sliding glass doors would be open, literally inviting making you an extra in their own private episode. I do not remember this ever happening on Bob Newhart.

But as a true 70’s television aficionado knows, the crowning hour was 9:00 and the Carol Burnett show. This was the show that mattered. My sister and I would lay on the floor in front of the tv – big bowls of jiffy pop and bottles of Tab by our side. Mom and dad would sit on the sofa and one of the brown corduroy Lay-Z-Boy recliners with their own big bowls of popcorn. Dad might have a cold beer but that was usually only when we had guests. And if we did have guests –they too would join us in the sacredness that was the Carol Burnett show. We laughed uproariously at the characters – our favorites being Tim Conway’s little old man and Carol’s Miss Wiggins in her skin tight pencil skirt and blonde curly wig. We loved when Tim made Harvey crack up and laugh, which is what we all knew we would be doing too. "How they keep a straight face I'll never know" my mother would often exclaim. We were on a first name basis with them by the way. Carol, Tim, Harvey and of course, Vicky and yes, even Lyle. I would run to the kitchen for more Tab or popcorn if the dancers were on – they did not interest me as much. But together, we would laugh at the family sketches, or share in the references of an old movie spoof. My dad would have tears running down his cheeks and we took special delight in laughing with him over the same things. It wasn't until I was an adult that I finally understood this comedy and laughter appeal. Simply put, it showed that we had something in common with our dad.

What’s that you say?

This was the true fantasy and the one thing at that age that we really could share with our dad. Sure, we shared with mom too, but there was more there to begin with. But dad worked all day, came home to tend to his gardens and go to bed and get up and do it all again. In the old-fashioned world of that time, he was the breadwinner and that was his focus. But he really relaxed on those Saturday nights. If it was a really great episode it may even result in Dad shouting "boy I sure could go for a DQ" and then we'd pile into his Rambler for a drive down to the Dairy Queen off Bellaire Avenue for ice cream. But laughter – shared laughter over a joke or a sketch – was the ultimate commonality on which we connected with our dad. And it didn’t stop there. We took great delight in telling stories or jokes we knew our dad would enjoy. At this point I can see that dad was (and is) sort of kooky. He was the kind of guy who could get onto the freeway, realize he had missed his exit, and simply drive through the grassy median and up onto the other side. At Christmas one year when we were all gathered in a circle opening gifts, he had received a set of steak knives and he threw one down to stick into the carpeting to see how sharp they were.

We all loved to laugh and you’d think some of us would not have minded being a bit out there and noticeable but my mother and sister loathed drawing attention to themselves. I missed that gene apparently and went so far as to become a stand up comic. Don't think the meaning is lost on me for a minute. In fact, I’ll never forget the first time my dad came to see me perform. I was at the Comedy Gallery in downtown Minneapolis and took to the stage in front of a fairly packed house. My set went well and I came to a joke I told about my dad, but which was actually based on something that a family friend used to say to us kids when we were young. I set the joke up by saying “My dad used to say to me..clean your plate, it will put hair on your chest.” As I paused before the punch line, my dad’s voice came through clearly for the entire audience to hear. “I never said that.” He got a bigger laugh than I did for that joke and you know what, he deserved it because he’s the one who gave me the gift of laughter and comedy in the first place, and that’s no fantasy.

Unemployment 101

I am not that unique.

In fact, I am so un-unique, that I have joined the many many people who have been laid off from their jobs. Harumph. Even, as in my case, when it's not a surprise, it's still a bit shocking. At it's worst, I imagine it can paralyze you. At it's best, I think it's an opportunity to grow and move into a new, more exciting direction. I am choosing to believe the second of those two options.

I was laid off from a company at which I had worked for three years. A company from which I expected I would one day retire. It was a smaller company and the people like family. That's what I miss the most..that daily interaction with people I truly liked and now miss. But I also believe things happen for a reason and being laid off, while a bit daunting, is also a great opportunity for me to change the trajectory of my life. It's what I needed to bring my focus to other areas in my life and to determine where I really want to go.

It's an opportunity to be proactive instead of reactive.

Do I want to be a full-time comic again? Or public speaker? How can I wrap my writing into my life and make more of a living? What about my passion for clothes and wardrobe presentation. Is there a career in this love? Can I even do any of this? Well, this is the time for me to find out.

It's been four weeks ago today since I was laid off. To be honest, I've been so busy in this time I sort of wonder how I got anything done when I was working 40 hours a week! I have started working on a business plan, had lunch and dinner with oodles of people, visited my parents, performed some comedy, written an article for a local paper and helped a friend style her look for a photo shoot. I'd like to say I have also painted my kitchen, but..well.... that's still to come! I have learned that if I get up early in the day and get on my computer and start working, it leads to a more productive day. In fact, I have a short list of things that I am going to note here that I have found make me feel better and more productive when I perform them on a daily basis. They remind me that I am a member of the land of the living whether I am wearing a pair of pumps or not!

1. Make my bed. This is so simple yet I have found that if I make my bed in the morning (something I admittedly did not do all the time when I was working out of the home) I feel more organized and productive immediately. It also helps to ensure that I don't languish around watching Ellen and the Price is Right because I fear once that habit is formed...well, let's just say it's better to not go there!

2. Wear make up. I am not a huge make up wearer beyond the basics. I have terrible skin so I go very lightly unless I'm going on stage. I have found however, that as I'm out and about right now, if I've put on some powder (I have discovered Clinique's new powder/mineral foundation) and lipstick, I feel much more prepared to face the day. It also helps me to simply feel better about myself even if I'm just taking my laptop to the coffee shop to work for awhile.

3. Wear the clothes I love. Like makeup, being in clothes that I love has always been central to who I am. I've never been one to really distinguish between "work" and "play" clothes because that line is so often blurred for me. But I'm very clear on the fact that just because I'm not going to an office every day doesn't mean I have to schlep around in sweat pants and fleece. I love my clothes and just because I've lost a day job that doesn't mean I'm not going to wear them! And again, like the makeup, wearing clothes that are fun and stylish means that I feel better about myself and that is worth everything in this transition.

4. Stay connected. Part of going to an office means you are seeing and interacting with people. It'd be so easy to become super reclusive and stay at home (see above reference to Ellen and the Price is Right!) I've been very deliberate about going out every day and seeing people. I am fortunate to have other friends who are self-employed and more flexible in their schedules, which leads to lunch and afternoons spent together. I call people daily and go out per usual in the evening. I feel connected to my community and that's because I am.

These are just some really simple things I have found during this transition. I'm excited to see where this road leads and will keep you posted. Thanks for reading!