growing up

Last night I ran for freshman VP of Brooklyn Tech's PTA. Several other people nominated themselves. A sizable crowd turned out to vote. I gave a 2 minute speech summing up who I am, what I've done and what I'd like to do.

I won.

I had the feeling I would. And to be honest I was a bit ambivalent about the whole thing without really knowing why.

But here's what I know today.

3 years ago, the last time I started on a PTA board, I didn't know how to run anything. I didn't want to. I was happy sitting quietly in the corner, designing posters and fliers for people. I didn't feel comfortable getting up and speaking in public. Didn't feel my ideas were valuable or worth sharing. I avoided spotlights and any responsibility bigger than what went on in my own little fiefdom.

By the time Iz graduated I was co president. Created an entire communications system. Spoke as easily to large groups of people as I would to a handful.

I shared ideas. Turned them into reality. Helped build community. Forged new relationships. Put myself out there in ways that had never crossed my mind before.

This school is much bigger. It's the largest high school in the country actually. It's daunting to dive into such an epic unknown. But I can see from here positive differences I can make. Ideas are flowing and instead of quietly sitting in the corner I'm ready to make things happen.

I'm growing up. Along with my 14 year old.

Maybe I'll start sporting an ear cuff and Dr Marten's.

beauty is in the eye of someone

I did an interview last week which ended with:

Do you think there is a vaginal cultural ideal?

I laughed out loud and we had to start over.

Did I think there's a certain sort of vagina girls and women aspire to?

Wow.

That is a thought that has never, ever crossed my mind.

For there to be a beauty standard, there would have to be way more vaginas out for public viewing. Or at least someone's viewing. Then, in comparison, those of the female persuasion would need to look at their own. And at that point, they'd need to know what they're looking at.

To be honest, I don't know many women or girls who've sent much time examining their vaginas.

To be even more honest, I don't know if that's true. I've never asked anyone if they've looked at themselves from that angle. No, wait. I did once have that conversation with a yoga instructor who leads women's empowerment groups. When she brought up the self examination part of her workshop I kept nodding my head but stopped listening. I didn't want the visual of a room full of women lounging on pillows, staring at mirrors held between their legs stuck in my head. Just that thought made me way too uncomfortable. Looking back, I'm not even sure that's what she said but I was so afraid it was where she was going I couldn't go with her.

I've given birth, vaginally, twice. Wrote a book about menstruation and spent three years talking about nothing else. But vaginas as a topic to discuss, explore, examine?

Haven't gone there.

Yesterday in Barnes and Noble I came across: Vagina, a New Biography sitting on a front table. I mentally made fun of the subtitle, dissed the cover design, and dismissed the author without knowing having read word one of her new tome.

Because I was uncomfortable. About an integral part of my body. Throughout history  this discomfort, this non awareness, this hiding from an important part of ourselves,  has gotten us in trouble.

Lysol as a douche?

Home abortions?

Scented tampons?

Maybe it's time to take a deeper look. Not at my vagina necessarily. But at how to be more open about something that's usually not a conversation starter.

speed writing

I barely thought about writing in the rain, sore throat, too much laundry, after school play dates, new book release, design challenge sort of day.

But that's ok.

Tomorrow, who knows.

oops I did it again

This is the third time I'm starting a 40 day writing commitment.

Third time's a charm.

Good things come in threes.

I don't know of a third thing to add to this list but I suppose saying this time is the right time works for me.

Habit.

Routine.

Part of my every day.

And once the writing starts, the projects and ideas and creativity follow.

That's the plan.

finding a place in the world

I spent yesterday at my first video shoot.

There were many take aways.

There are some fascinating professions I wish I knew about when I was younger.

From this side the grass not only looks greener, but it's glistening with early morning dew.

I miss being in the middle of creative endeavors.

I like being the talent, the expert, the person in the know.

But sometimes that's a lonely place. Especially for something as niche-y as menstruation. And for someone who's not a doctor or a scientist or a professor? Not many calls for my expertise.

Talking Flow though is a joy. Looking at the bigger picture. Starting, continuing, having the conversation. Yesterday though I was rusty. I used to talk this every day. It's been years at this point since it was daily conversation.

Today I'm wondering, as usual, what's next. I'm feeling, for the first time in a long time, that perhaps my Flow role isn't over. Yet. I just have to work harder at finding ways to stay involved.

an out of the ordinary day

I spent today on a video shoot.

Was fitted for wardrobe. Wired for sound. Hair slickly ironed. Circles under my eyes covered up.

When escorted through the set someone would loudly say "talent coming through" and they were talking about me.

I signed contracts. Ate a gourmet lunch. Met producers and sound engineers. APs and camera men. 

Someone held a water bottle for me. Someone else monitored whether my scarf and shirt looked ok on camera.

People in various locations watched me on a video feed.

The director asked questions and I talked.

And talked. 

And talked.

About menstruation. Vaginas. Body image. Fem care advertising. Blue liquid. Pad development. Wandering uteruses. Hysteria. Ritual cleansing.

How important it is be open. To have conversations. To feel comfortable with our bodies.

Sometimes I feel like I've never done anything that makes a difference.

And then there are times like today. 

back to square one

So my goal to write every day for 40 days lasted for 3 and then I blew it yesterday. Well, maybe I didn't blow it but I didn't write.

I don't know that I even thought about writing.

And that's what this is all about.

Making the writing so much a part of me again that I can't go to sleep knowing I haven't done it.

A part of my routine like brushing my teeth or scraping my tongue or checking my email. Things I do automatically, without debating or thinking or struggling or wondering.

And so, today I'm starting again.

Day one.

Fighting a slight cold. A bit nervous about my documentary shoot tomorrow. Re-knitting the sweater I'd already half done.

Frizzy hair.

Waiting for The Office to start.

Quietly basking in my family all doing their own things but close enough so I can feel them nearby.