Oh my god, Becky, look at her...

I've been thinking about women a lot lately.

Not in the "see ya, Shupe, I've found a lady friend" kind of way.

I've been thinking about our image of ourselves. Other's image of us. The media's portrayal of women. The fact that a panel of men think they have a right to make decisions about our bodies. I've been thinking about radio dj's who feel a woman speaking on her right to contraception is a "slut" who should make her sexual activity available for viewing by said dj. I've been thinking about the people who kept on listening.

I've never been one to have a good self-image. I grew up with (albeit loving) nicknames of "Tubby" and "Piglet" and "Slow-Mo." I've always had, like many many young people, that nagging feeling that I could look better. That feeling has taken me to the gym. That feeling has encouraged my nearly two decades of vegetarianism. The better stuff you put in your body, the healthier your body will be.

This week, someone I care deeply about took that same low body image and headed to the surgery center, going under the knife to literally limit the amount of food and drink they can physically injest. Visiting them yesterday, I had flashbacks of my dad, in the final days of a disease that would end up taking his life. Groggy, incoherant, in pain and unable to walk more than a hallway's length. But this time it was self-inflicted, not at the behest of the indiscriminate illness we call cancer.

When I thought about writing this post, I took a hard look at just how many people I know that have gone through this same procedure for this same reason. Hoping not to offend, I have been in turmoil about whether or not to even put these thoughts to "paper." But then I decided that it has to be said. If we could stop and think for a moment, we would realize how far from healthy we have become.

But I can't put the blame solely on women and their desire to look like a starlet on the runway. This is the image thrust upon us by the media, celebrities, royalty and everyone who promotes the unattainable goal that is perfection.

Every time I go to purchase my groceries at the market and I see that Star Magazine, the one with the pictures of "who looks great in a bikini, who looks not so great," I realize that is what little girls with their moms are seeing. Who are we do judge bikini bodies of the famous? Who is buying this shit? I know this is an extreme case, but just think about it. Burly football players are flanked by scantily clad cheerleaders in barely-there outfits; female tv anchors don tank tops and cleavage next to male anchors in three-piece suits; Fiat sells us cars by ads with a sexy woman speaking a foreign language (who cares what she's saying anyway?) making swoony eyes at the geeky guy. This is what sells.

Then we have Congress and the uber religious deciding that they know best what rights a woman should have over her body. A panel of men served as the "experts" regarding women's rights to contraception. Dozens of propositions are circlating in many states regarding "personhood," who can get an abortion and what reasons these people feel are reasonable for her to do so. Abortion doctors continue to be targeted with violence. If you don't agree with contraception and abortion, don't use it and don't have one. Nobody is forcing you to. But when you try to tell me what I should and shouldn't do in the privacy of my home, you bet your ass I'm going to stand up a give you the fight of your life.

Nobody has the right to tell a victim of rape that she is not legally allowed to rid her body of the evidence of that horrific event, unless they've walked in her shoes. It is not your choice. She's been through enough without having to fight for the right to have control of her body, after she was forced to lose all control over it. Shame on you.

I must say, though, that it's not all bad. Women are speaking up. Women are banding together to say enough is enough. We cannot risk giving up what we've fought so hard for.

Let's unite. Let's decide that healthy is eating right and exercising, not spending the day at the surgery center and two weeks on a liquid diet. Let's tell her she's beautiful not because she's thin, but because she shines from the inside out. Let's not buy those trashy magazines that propetuate an unatainable ideal of perfection. We all deserve to feel good about ourselves and make others feel happy with themselves.

If you want to join the movement of women (and men) standing up to say that this war on women must end, go to http://www.wearewomenmarch.net/. Let's do it for our daughters, and their daughters. And their sons and brothers.

Did somebody say COSTA RICA?!?

I think it hit me yesterday.

In less than two weeks, I'll be on a plane, on my way to my dream vacay spot. We will be leavin' on a jet plane heading to Costa Stickin' Rica, baby!

This is the perk of booking a trip in two months rather than ten months. Less of a delay in that delayed gratification. Shupe and I are one Sactown weekend away from Central American bliss.

Are we ready? Eh, no. Do we have appropriate swimwear/footwear/rainwear? Not so much. But you better believe we are dragging our pre-departure booties to the mall in the next week to check those items off of our "to buy" list.

Heck, I just realized today I probably should actually think about wardrobe decisions. I mean, I have my three go to pairs of shoes, but how realistic is it to take my favorite oh-so-comfy brown (vegan!) boots on a 6 hour (plus 3 hour layover and plane change) plane ride? Not so much.

And what will the Tico's think if this gringa lands in their lovely country looking frumpy/tired/homely/insert-weak-sauce-adjective-here? They may be known for being the friendliest people in the world, but I bet they've caught themselves shaking their heads at unprepared vacationers running for cover in a sudden rainstorm in white linen pants and stilletos. (Don't worry, I don't own white linen pants, so we're safe.)

But here we are, t-minus ten days and counting. Time to get on it.

Oh, and did I mention the biggest eek of the whole thing?

It's the moment of truth. . . . . . . . . . . .

Swimsuit shopping. (Everyone please let out a collective uggggg.) But this time, I am assuring myself it will be different. I've been working it at the gym for, eh, maybe ten months or so (where does the time go!?) and I'm thinking this might not be as bad as it has in the past. No matter that it's been five years since I've been in a fitting room with a rack of teeny tiny bikinis. No matter that instead of a 24 year old in the dressing room, it will be a almost-30-year old in there. Do they make special fitting rooms with darker lighting and maybe a courage cocktail for those of us on the waining end of their 20's?

Ok, ok, just kidding. I don't think it will be that bad, but let's just say I saved one of the good bottles of wine just in case things go south at the Galleria.

But if the worst thing that happens is I run into some bad dressing room lighting, I guess I can handle it. Worst comes to worse, Shupe and I will stick with the rainforest and save the beach time for next trip.

Nah.

Those kettle bell swings, trx lunges, tire flips, prowler pulls/pushes, (attempted) pull ups and the like have me convinced it won't be that bad.

If you don't see posts for a while, it's because I've taken to wearing my swimsuit everyday and now I'm out of work but looking really tan from plenty of off time spent sunbathing in my backyard.

Vamanos a Costa Rica, ahora!

On Kony

I'm sure nearly everyone has seen the buzz regarding the so-called "Kony 2012" campaign by now. Many are fired up. More are skeptical. Some don't care. No matter how you feel, a dialogue has been created.

The concerns are fair. The charity spends over 16% of its revenue on administrative expenses. One can't deny that is a large chunk. Nearly 3% of the expenses are the salaries of the top three in the organization, each making nearly $90,000 in salary. (Although those of you who have lived in San Diego know that $90,000 is not anything to write home about in an expensive city such as it is.)

I have been donating monthly to Women for Women International, which pays its top official (the founder) over $220,000 yearly, nearly 1% of the revenue. Though they pay under 10% in administrative costs and have a higher rating as a charitable organization, that amount is not simply a drop in the bucket. But knowing the story of the founder, her hard work and struggles for her organization to come to fruition, I say she deserves it. Her work changes lives. I'm proud to sponsor my "sister" in Rwanda and I will always sponsor someone, if not multiple people.

The issue of administrative costs brings up a few issues in my mind.

First, in such a capitalistic society as is ours, shouldn't we be happy that three people are able to make their living working to better the lives of others? We applaud people for being inventive and creating a business that thrives. We rationalize multi-million dollar bonuses of oil executive who pillage far off lands for their riches. I know, I know, this is a charity. But in this world, one cannot be expected to work for free (unless your name is Clooney or Jolie). I'm sure these guys spent hundreds of waking hours stressing over this idea and hoping they could create a real solution. You saw the video, it wasn't, and doesn't appear to be, a walk in the park to get people to take notice to issues in far off places.

But I have to admit, to me the whole money issue is really secondary. They spend a lot on things that are not directly saving a child from being snatched in the night and forced to commit attrocities. But here is the piece of this story that stands out in my mind.

We're talking.

People who usually don't talk about issues more important than the weather, are talking.

People who look at the news and the tragedies in other countries and say, "there's nothing I can do," are taking action. However minimally, even with simply posting the video, they are doing something. Even if that's the extent of their activist fervor, they did something. Many of these people have likely never posted or shared with friends a story or video of an issue happening outside their bubble or the extended bubble of US affairs.

Imagine.

Imagine if hundreds, thousands, or millions of people would have spoken up about the genocide in Rwanda in the early days of the senseless violence, before the massacre of nearly 20% of the population of that country.

Imagine if people would have been vocal during the 25 years of violence and bloodshed in East Timor, which resulted in the deaths of over 100,000 people.

Imagine if information would have "gone viral" about the ethnic cleansing in Bosnia and world powers would have taken action sooner.

Imagine if efforts would have been ten-fold or one hundred-fold to end the mistake that was Vietnam, which saw a loss of lives in the millions for the Vietnamese and the tens of thousands for our soldiers (with hundreds of thousands more physically and mentally wounded).

Imagine if they would not have been silent during the attempted extermination of the Jewish population during the Holocaust. Imagine the world today if that horrible show of inhumanity would have been met with outrage throughout the world.

I'm proud that my friends are talking. I'm proud that millions of people spent thirty minutes learning about what's going on somewhere besides Hollywood. I am proud of every person who took the first step towards real compassion for perfect strangers in a place they have never been and likely will never go.

So keep talking. Keep fighting. If we don't fight against war, we are a party to making war.