Phenomenal Woman...

The following is an email I received from a wonderful, amazing woman.  Rory and I met about a year ago when we ventured into a social justice class being offered at our church.  She also joined our Moms group as well.  Now we have added another venture to our friendship- starting our 7Sisters nonprofit group.   She lifts me up, keeps me going and always keeps me laughing.  Thanks for letting me share this email Rory!

So I've been meaning to write you about your blog. But it seems that when I actually have a few minutes I either try to get some breathing room or chisel the goo off of my children.

To begin, you're such a beatiful writer. I love reading everything you write, even the 7Sisters agendas, and I'm so glad you're doing this blog.

I've been struggling with weight issues for a while and I was thinking about writing a blog that began with finding a picture of myself. Ever have those days when you you're doing your makeup and hair in the mirror and thinking "Lookin' good..." and then a picture that someone takes just snaps you back into reality? In mine I look strangely like Sasquatch. No really. I even looked up the picture on the Internet and although mine was fairly clear -- Bad posture? Check. Extra wild hair? Check.  Intimidating girth? Oh. Yeah.

And so I've put off doing so many things because of my weight. Swimming lessons for the kids? Forced myself this year. But I won't take them to Elitch's or Water World (which for my pasty self isn't such a bad thing). Sewing some outfits? (Don't ask.) I look like I'm saving up for the apocalypse with linen, stretch jersey and some mighty fine silks. But I can't possibly make them until I lose weight.

And so I thought about a tongue-in-cheek view of my weight, called Sassy Sasquatch, Sew-Sew Sasquatch or Squalling Sasquatch. Heavy on the self deprication, complete with unflattering photos. You get the idea. And then I had a conversation with my daughter where she was upset because everyone keeps telling her she's tall and skinny. So, I had to console my daughter about being our society's supposed ideal. And It just seems so incredibly tragic to me that it doesn't matter what a girl, teen or woman looks like, someone is still telling them it's not right. My daughter is seven and has already alternated between too skinny, too fat, just... too.

I have a gorgeous friend who is somewhere around a size two. Maybe on three days she feels "bloated." She constantly tears herself apart and I've told her that every time she tears herself down around me, I'm charging her a dollar, and when we have enough money, we're going to D-Bar, which serves primarily desserts.

And so that l'il rant leads me back to you. I think it was a squiggly line. I love how you just own yourself and who you are. There are no apologies. And at least in public, I don't hear you tear yourself down. And so I'm so glad you're going to make this journey for yourself and your kids and that sassy little granddaughter that one day you're going to spoil rotten.

Here's a poem that I love by Maya Angelou that you and your post made me think of.

Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Maya Angelou

Amen Rory.  Thank you for your wit, I swear it will get us through many a tough time.  Couldn't do it without you sister!

Peace~

Melinda