Witnessed this moment at the Philly Pride Parade last weekend; the Rainbow dogs with the religious anti-gay folks.

Last Sunday my daughter and I headed into downtown Philly to help run a booth at the Philadelphia Pride Festival (the booth was promoting my daughter’s school). It was exhilarating to see so many happy young couples celebrating Pride, holding hands and kissing and flirting and dancing. I’m thrilled that by exposing my daughter to the site of men and women being romantically involved and sharing “public displays of affection” with the same sex will seem normal to her instead of, well, NOT.

Because I fully believe it IS normal.

It was a heartening day, but my joy was smacked dead by this news story about a judge ordering two women to split up if one of the women wants to keep custody of her children. I cannot imagine how horrifying it is for those women, being faced with such a horrible choice. And I know that without a doubt no one would ever tell me – because I’m a straight woman – that I’d have to stop living with my partner if I wanted to keep my children (unless, of course, my partner was abusing the children, and even then it would take serious legal effort).

Does it feel to anyone else that each inch our society scratches and claws forward in this debate leads to more cases of homophobic rhetoric like the judgement above? I mean the judge is citing a MORALITY clause as the reason he can force these woman apart. I want to drive to Texas, find him, and kick him hard in his morality clause to make him see sense. To see love. To see FAMILY.

I don’t want to just be a straight ally anymore. I want to be a soldier in this war, and cheering from the sidelines isn’t enough. As much as I am working on helping my daughter view the spectrum of gender and sexuality, I want her to feel safe to choose who she loves when she’s older. As I watched the young couples at Pride hold hands and kiss, I know they cannot safely do that outside of the festival grounds, and that infuriates me. I can practically hump my husband on a street corner without getting more than a “get a room” comment – gay couples could actually be risking their lives if they behaved the same way in public. And I hate that for them.

There are over one thousand rights denied to gay couples that straight married couples take for granted – such as being able to apply for a green card for the person you love. One of my best friends married a man from England; they had to jump through plenty of immigration hoops, but they are legally married and he’s allowed to live here, no problem.

This isn’t true David and Jason (see video below), legally married in New York State, and forced to live in separate countries for most of the year. Their lives and their happiness lies in the hands of nine people – the Supreme Court – that will decide whether or not the federal Defense of Marriage (GAH! I hate that name! My marriage does NOT need f**king defending from gay couples) is unconstitutional.

I do see signs of hope, of course. ABC Family‘s new show The Fosters highlights a happy marriage between two women that are raising a mix of kids. And yesterday I heard the brilliant song, “Same Love” on the mainstream pop station here in town. It’s clear the winds are changing when it comes to gay marriage, but damn, it’s rough in the meantime.

I’m praying that the Supreme Court comes down on the side of love. And family. And HOPE.

Sorry if this is a bit of a rant. I’m just fired up, folks.

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, it’s likely you’ve heard about the new study from Pew that shows that moms are the primary breadwinners in over 40% of homes in the United States.

Here’s the problem with that study: of that 40%, 63% are single mothers. So of COURSE they are the primary breadwinner in their families. This means, then, that in reality only 14.8% of two parent households the mother is the primary breadwinner in a two income households.

Much less dramatic, right?

It is also somewhat sad to see that the single moms earn significantly less than married moms, as evidenced by the chart you see on the left, as much as a fourth less. Here’s what Pew says is the reason for that disparity:

Compared with all mothers with children under age 18, married mothers who out-earn their husbands are slightly older, disproportionally white and college educated. Single mothers, by contrast, are younger, more likely to be black or Hispanic, and less likely to have a college degree.

In a study released by Pew back in March, it was revealed that 60% of married couples both work full time in order to support their families, but the at home division of labor is still somewhat gender biased, with women typically doing more of the parenting duties and housework than men do. Here’s the breakdown of that data showing how even though roles are converging between men and women, there is still an unequal division of labor in some respects.

Also in that study from March, it shows that while men might do less at home, they also work longer hours in the office than women do.

Of course, in households with single mothers, all of the household work falls on the shoulders of the mom (in single parent homes with fathers, naturally, the same can be said).

While all this data is interesting, it doesn’t address a core issue for working moms: we continue to earn more than 20% less our male counterparts, although that number is improving. When I was a kid, it was less than $.0.70 on the dollar.

Does this data interest you? Any revelations, or anything the study found that was startling? I’d love your thoughts.

Thanks to ABC Family’s new series The Fosters for sponsoring this post. Click here to see more of the discussion. Also, watch the premiere of The Fosters on Monday, June 3 at 9/8c only on ABC Family.

The cast of The Fosters on ABC Family.

Kelly (name is changed to protect her identity) was a friend of mine in high school. She was a year younger than I was, and her home life was a crazy chaotic mess, with her mother hopping from unhealthy to abusive relationships with men that often weren’t kind to Kelly and her siblings, and some even hurt her. But it wasn’t until her mother got involved with a sort of religious cult that Kelly was finally removed from the mom’s home and put into foster care. Her foster care situation wasn’t ideal – obviously, living at home with loving parents and being with her siblings would have been better – but it offered a temporary refuge and sanctuary during a challenging time in her life.

Once I left high school, I worked at an animal hospital in Philly in what is now known as the “Gayboroughood”, and many of our clients were gay and lesbian families. This was back in the late 80′s, so AIDS was a huge issue with people (including our clients) dying from the disease with frightening frequency. One of the families I remember the most from that time was a lesbian couple that were fostering (with hopes to adopt) a little boy that had HIV. I remember them telling me about the challenges they faced for adopting their son because of being a same sex couple, and the legal tricks they planned to do so they could both legally parent him. The last I heard, they had been able to adopt him, and his HIV was manageable. He’s probably graduated college already.

I feel like I know more folks that have been through foster care than most; I’m a recovering alcoholic, and since alcoholism is usually a family disease, plenty of other recovering drunks I know had chaotic families like Kellys and spent some time in foster care. Most of them had good experiences in foster care – since most people that foster kids are doing it because they genuinely want to help – but they are all a little broken because their family situations caused them such upheaval.

I was excited to see that ABC Family has decided to tackle this complex mess of issues with their new show, The Fosters. It really is a “kitchen sink” kind of show; it features a bi-racial lesbian couple raising biological children while also fostering troubled kids at the same time. It tackles birth parent issues, relationship issues, coping with challenging kids, and the myriad of issues that such a story would face.

Frankly, I couldn’t be more thrilled to see this show being made. The first episode is gripping, and I can’t wait to watch more. I hope you’ll watch, too, and maybe even with your older kids. This show will inspire amazing discussions about what makes up a family.

Celebrating after a climb on a recent hike.

I spent Monday afternoon through all day yesterday battling some sort of stomach… thing. I don’t know if it was a bug or something I ate, but mercifully, it only lasted about twenty four hours. I woke up this morning feeling mostly pretty good and am back at my desk upright and working.

When I got up today I knew I wanted to shower – because, obviously, sickness = icky – but then I hesitated because I thought to myself, “Maybe I should wait until after the gym…”

Whoa. The person I was three months ago would NEVER have had that thought. That person wouldn’t have even considered the gym after a sick day, much less planned to work up enough of a sweat at the gym that a shower would be needed. Because the person I was three months ago had stopped going to the gym, or doing much in the way of walking, or moving, or anything. That person was fat, and sick, and tired, and hated herself.

I spent years trying to learn to love my body as it was, instead of a mythical someday body that I hoped to would happen to me magically. I refused to diet, deciding instead to try to learn my body’s cues for what it wanted to eat, with occasional forays into random eating plans (I’m giving up sugar! No, wheat! No, I’m eating paleo! No, I’m low carb!) trying, desperately, to feel better about myself.

It didn’t work. I didn’t love my body. I instead grew distant from my body and ignored it – both how it looked and how I felt.

Before I started infertility treatments – ten years ago now – I was incredibly fit. And while I wasn’t slim – I bottomed out at a size 14 – I felt GREAT (fatness and fitness aren’t exclusive). I could go for long walks, hike up mountains, take a crazy tough class at the gym and then work the rest of the day, or even dance all night without breaking much of a sweat. But the treatments required that I restrict exercise, and then the emotional toll of infertility and loss was too much for me and I slipped back into my oldest and most effective coping mechanism – compulsive overeating.

By the time I had my daughter, I was well over a hundred pounds heavier. After she was born I lost some weight, but when I decided to focus on weight loss for real six months ago, I still needed to lose 90 pounds to get to my pre-infertility weight.

Since I snapped to reality again, I’ve lost forty pounds. I go to the gym at least four times a week, and I walk or hike on my non-gym days. I feel better than I have felt for years.

Best of all, I feel like my skin is fitting again. Not literally; fatness and pregnancies and age means my literal skin will likely never fit me right again. But I feel like I’ve stepped back into my body, and that I’ve living in it again.

I try not to live in regret, but it’s hard to look back at the past decade – or at least at the last seven years since my daughter was born – without grief for the woman I’d become. I mourn that healthy body I lost. But I can use that sadness for fuel to keep me on this path to health. I don’t want to head into my fifties (arg!) where I was, or even where I am now.

Fifty more pounds, and I will at least shed the pain of the last decade. After that? Well, we’ll see, won’t we?

PS: I totally showered. I’m nice to my gym friends like that.

My daughter and her illustrations of Merida.

I was traveling so much in the last month that I somehow managed to miss the controversy about the “new” Merida makeover, right up until I posted a photo from the ceremony at Disney World where Merida was inducted as an official Princess, and someone asked me about it.

I’m grateful, frankly, that I had no idea such a controversy was happening, because it allowed me to just enjoy the event. As I said in my blog, the Merida that was on stage that day was fully the Merida from the movie. Unlike the other princesses who posed carefully with dainty hand gestures, Merida was all long strides and swinging arms and posed, strongly, holding her bow with her (very non-sparkly) crown on.

It was pretty awesome.

My daughter loves Merida fiercely, and  she hasn’t fallen for any of the other Disney princesses (although she’s quite fond of Rapunzel too) nearly as hard. She has worked hard to master her Merida bow and arrow, successfully managing to shoot an arrow at least once across the entire length of the house (and no, I’m not really interested in hearing why she shouldn’t be shooting play arrows in the house, thanks). When she’s nervous about something – say, a ride at Disney World – she always brings up Merida and how brave she is and why she needs to be brave too.

That’s not to say that I don’t have issues with Merida and Disney. I was saddened when Brenda Chapman was removed from directing the film; I’d hoped that Disney would finally allow a woman to direct a movie about a princess. I also have issues with the whole packaging of the Disney Princesses. When I was a child, Cinderella was just a character in a movie, and she and Snow White had little in common. The wholesale packaging of all the princesses – with Mulan and Pocahontas awkwardly shoved in there – drives my inner feminist batshit crazy, as does the pink aisle at the toy store.

When I saw the “new” Merida, yeah, my eyebrows went up a bit. But was I surprised? Hell no. Come on, people, is ANYONE shocked by the fact that Disney – one of the world’s biggest corporate brands (that owns this website, remember) and is VERY careful with its branding – would create a version of Merida that would could fit in seamlessly with the other princesses, who have always been tiny waisted and girly?

But does it change the influence Merida had on my daughter? No. Not at all.

Catherine Connors wrote about this controversy and she clarified – in her official Disney capacity – that this gussied up version of Merida was a temporary thing for her coronation and that the version of Merida we know and love isn’t going anywhere. But I really love what Jenny the Bloggess wrote about the controversy too; she asked the important question, and I think we need to keep it in mind.

Why are we looking at Disney – a large, for-profit institution – to teach our daughters about strong women?

I’ll admit that in the past I might have reacted differently to this; I remember getting damned upset about the revamped Dora the Explorer a few years ago (whatever happened to teenage Dora, anyway?). I don’t know what role working here at Babble and therefore working for Disney plays in my reaction to this issue. But I do know that the combination of constant bombardment by the internet combined with my advancing age has come together to make me just feel so damn tired when a big controversy like this comes along. I’m tired of people telling me how to feel about issues – on both sides. I’m feeling more willing to pause a bit and let myself process the issue on my own instead of leaping on the outrage bandwagon.

When my daughter was little, I deliberately made the choice to step back and let her indulge fully in sparkly and princess and pink, even though I worried about it as a feminist. I’m happy to say she’s come through fairly unscathed. She prefers purple to pink now, has skinned knees and bruised shins from playing rough, climbs trees and would generally rather not ever brush her hair. She’s a great kid, and Disney hasn’t hurt her a bit. In fact, I think Merida in particular has helped.

I think, ultimately, the “new” Merida provides yet another perfect opportunity (as Jenny also mentioned in her post) to deepen the discussion about gender with your kids. When my daughter saw the new Merida, she said, “Did her mom make her do that?” She didn’t feel betrayed or horrified, so why would I inject that into the conversation? I don’t want to make her feel badly for loving Merida. So I’m just going to let this one be.

Merida is Merida, and my daughter loves her. For me? That’s all that matters.

When my family arrived at Disney World last week, I expected to enjoy watching my daughter fall in love with the magic. What I didn’t expect is the find myself tearing up over everything Cinderella.

I’m the worst feminist EVER.

I don’t remember my mom allowing me to watch the original Cinderella movie the rare times it returned to the theaters in my youth (hey, I’m old – no VCRs when I was a kid). But I read the original story (several versions), but even if I hadn’t? Well, there is no escaping the Cinderella story if you are an American woman.

Whenever Cinderella was mentioned, my mother – with an edge of bitterness based on her own experience – told me that it was foolish for a woman to “wait around for some man to come and rescue her.” She told me, over and over again, that women needed to count on themselves and themselves only.

But you know what? It wasn’t actually a prince that rescued Cinderella, not at first.

Nope.

It was her fairy godmother.

When we first walked into the Magic Kingdom, I spotted the castle. My daughter was over the moon about it, and as we got close, I found myself completely choked up. Later, when the Fairy Godmother arrived on the scene, I found myself crying again. But when I saw Prince Charming? Nothing. And I didn’t cry when I met Cinderella either.

It’s all about the Fairy God Mother.

No one warned me about not wishing for a fairy godmother to come and wave her wand over my life, cleaning me up and making me beautiful and ready for the next magical thing to happen to me. And you know what? I’ve spent my whole life waiting for that moment.

It’s why I play the lottery. It’s why my personal retirement plan is one part actual savings and three parts crossing my fingers. It’s why I imagine a publisher waltzing up to me with a book deal in hand instead of finishing my damn book proposal.

It’s all that damn fairy’s fault.

It was an interesting realization. I knew that on some level I’d absorbed the Cinderella myth. But I never realized how deeply it’s ingrained in me, and I’ve never considered exactly how. Now that I know, I’ve got more work to do on myself. Because if there’s one thing I know, it’s that there is no magic wand that will be waving over my life.

Unless I win the Powerball tonight.

Ahem.

I turned (gulp) 45 years old on Friday.

Yes, I’m 45 and have pink hair. Go ahead. Laugh for a moment. I love it.

I struggled with turning 40 but got past it. Now, 45 feels like true middle age, and that’s just damned weird. I mean, I have a little girl (my daughter will be seven in June), so how can I possibly be in middle age? Not to mention that I just FEEL the same as I always did. Right?

Except you know what? That’s not quite true. I feel better now about myself then I ever did. I know who I am, and with each day I feel less and less like I have to explain myself.

Even better than that is the growth in compassion I have now. I don’t need to get so fired up over every damn thing, you know? I may not agree with everyone (not even close), but I can find compassion for those that disagree with me instead of hatred.

I was curious about how other bloggers over 40 felt, and got some great responses. If you’re on the cusp of 40 and are worried – or here already, or even if 40 is far away – I think you’ll find great joy in these words.

• 

  Bloggers Over 40

  Oh yes, they are. Smokin' hot and happy. Read on!

  /babble-voices/the-uppercase-lowdown-cecily-kellogg/2013/04/30/bloggers-over-40-smokin-hot-and-happy/#bloggers-over-40
• 

  Alyssa Ettinger

  "I feel like I've come into myself, found my own sense of style. No cares of what anyone thinks of what I'm wearing – like my candy apple red patent leather Dansko clogs, dammit. If Brene Brown can rock them, so can I. No, i wouldn't wear them to a gala, but everyday when I'm on my feel all day? I don't care what anyone thinks. (And I also don't find them ugly, it's not like they're orthopedic shoes!)
  
  I also have no concerns about mishegas like dandruff or a big pimple or looking blotchy – I wear so much less makeup now than I ever did! I also don't mind being the old lady driving the ratty car with Aerosmith blasting, wearing hippie-chick clothes.
  
  I guess I care more about myself, inside, who I am and what I can accomplish. I really don't have time for crap.
  
  Image courtesy of Twitter. Find Alyssa's amazing art here.

  /babble-voices/the-uppercase-lowdown-cecily-kellogg/2013/04/30/bloggers-over-40-smokin-hot-and-happy/#alyssa-ettinger
• 

  Anne Parris

  "I love being over 40! I've never felt more like me. My kids are bigger and I'm happy in my marriage. so I feel like there's time for me to follow my passion.
  
  Women over 40 are really starting to make their presence felt on the Internet. I hope to be part of giving a platform to women in midlife.
  
  We're not going to sit in the corner and be quiet as we age. We are going to start businesses, climb mountains, be active for causes we love, and run for political office."
  
  Image courtesy of Twitter. Find Anne has a great new site for midlife bloggers, Generation Fabulous.

  /babble-voices/the-uppercase-lowdown-cecily-kellogg/2013/04/30/bloggers-over-40-smokin-hot-and-happy/#anne-parris
• 

  Debi Pfitzenmaier

  "There's something that happened to me when I hit 45. I think I realized I was finally a grown up and it really didn't matter what people thought of me. Now that I'm just a few months away from 50, I've hit another milestone. I realize I don't have to keep climbing. I've been there. Done that. And it's someone else's turn now. I'm like the little engine that could. Up to 45, I was chugging and chugging up the hill. And now, I finally get to coast a little. Feel the wind in my face. Enjoy the ride. Breathe.
  
  That's pretty damn awesome."
  
  Image courtesy of Twitter. Check out her site San Antonio Busy Kids.

  /babble-voices/the-uppercase-lowdown-cecily-kellogg/2013/04/30/bloggers-over-40-smokin-hot-and-happy/#debi-pfitzenmaier
• 

  Desirre Andrews

  "I will say being over 40 (almost 46) is amazing. Body acceptance is at an all time high. Sexual veracity and openness all time high. It in an incredibly expansive age of self expression, self awareness, self forgiveness and a comfort in my own skin.
  
  I say what I think without fear. That my friend is a beautiful thing. To care about others but not have their idea or ideals of me alter my own perception widely is a gift. I can truly be myself whether others like it much or not.
  
  I can laugh and be silly much like when I was a small girl. Another fantastic blessing of this age.
  
  In short, it kicks ass."
  
  Image courtesy of Twitter. Check out her site Preparing For Birth too.

  /babble-voices/the-uppercase-lowdown-cecily-kellogg/2013/04/30/bloggers-over-40-smokin-hot-and-happy/#desirre-andrews
• 

  Donna Highfill

  "My 50's are a lot like my 20's, except with a little more self-assurance and a little less elasticity."
  
  Image courtesy of Twitter. Check out Donna's site Dame Nation.

  /babble-voices/the-uppercase-lowdown-cecily-kellogg/2013/04/30/bloggers-over-40-smokin-hot-and-happy/#donna-highfill
• 

  Elizabeth Lee

  "I was never really comfortable in my own skin until I was over 40. I've recently survived a nasty divorce and realized I can handle anything. I'm in my early 50s now, and life is fabulous!"
  
  Image courtesy of Twitter. Be sure to check out her blog as well.

  /babble-voices/the-uppercase-lowdown-cecily-kellogg/2013/04/30/bloggers-over-40-smokin-hot-and-happy/#elizabeth-lee
• 

  Hillary Chybinski

  "I turned 45 at the beginning of 2013. . .it was hard. . .that’s a big number. . .and for some reason, it feels like “true” middle age to me. . .but then I realize it ain’t nothin but a number, and that number could just as easily be 32 – it’s how you feel inside that counts."
  
  Image courtesy of Twitter. Hillary blogs at My Scraps.

  /babble-voices/the-uppercase-lowdown-cecily-kellogg/2013/04/30/bloggers-over-40-smokin-hot-and-happy/#hillary-chybinski
• 

  Jessica Cohen

  "The beauty of being 40 is having the wisdom to accept that no matter what happened in years past or what will happen in the years to come, right now I am exactly where I should be - and I am enjoying the journey."
  
  Image courtesy of Twitter. She's also Found the Marbles.

  /babble-voices/the-uppercase-lowdown-cecily-kellogg/2013/04/30/bloggers-over-40-smokin-hot-and-happy/#jessica-cohen
• 

  Julie Stamper

  "My only regret about being over 40 is that it didn't happen sooner. It's a lot easier to walk around with less baggage!"
  
  Image courtesy of Twitter. Check out her blog, A Day in the Wife.

  /babble-voices/the-uppercase-lowdown-cecily-kellogg/2013/04/30/bloggers-over-40-smokin-hot-and-happy/#julie-stamper
• 

  Karen / Submommy

  “I love being 47. It is a fabulous stage of life. You realize, over 45, that life is very short and you have to take advantage of all good things or find good things.”
  
  Image courtesy of Twitter. Karen blogs at Random Thoughts From A Suburban Mom.

  /babble-voices/the-uppercase-lowdown-cecily-kellogg/2013/04/30/bloggers-over-40-smokin-hot-and-happy/#karen-submommy
• 

  Sandra Sallin

  "Believe it is awesome to be 40 because you're alive. The older you get the more stories you hear the more grateful you are to be alive at what ever age you are. Be grateful you're here at any age!"
  
  Image courtesy of Sandra's site, Apart from my art. Be sure to look at her beautiful paintings.

  /babble-voices/the-uppercase-lowdown-cecily-kellogg/2013/04/30/bloggers-over-40-smokin-hot-and-happy/#sandra-sallin
• 

  Sheila Dowd

  "I love being 40+! In my 20's I was busy finding myself and proving to the world that I could get it done. In my 30's I was birthing babies and simply trying to keep it together. Now that I am 40+, I have more space in my head and time on my hands to do what feels right for me. I have perspective now, am less insecure and take more risks. Life is short and I feel like I am just figuring out what it is all about; so my 40s are gonna be about me in the driver's seat with the top down."
  
  Image courtesy of Twitter. Best known as a Clever Girl, Sheila also blogs at Xiaolin Mama.

  /babble-voices/the-uppercase-lowdown-cecily-kellogg/2013/04/30/bloggers-over-40-smokin-hot-and-happy/#sheila-dowd
• 

  Sherry Aikens

  "When I asked my mother, "Why do women over 40 wear alot of sparkle?" She said, "The older you get the more sparkle you have to buy." Now after 40 I understand... you want to be as glittery as you feel.
  
  I never felt truly myself till I turned 40. Now there is no holding me back. I am 41 and a force to be reckoned with."
  
  Image courtesy of Twitter. Sherry blogs at Super Exhausted, and also makes super hero capes for kids (and adults!).

  /babble-voices/the-uppercase-lowdown-cecily-kellogg/2013/04/30/bloggers-over-40-smokin-hot-and-happy/#sherry-aikens
• 

  Zippy Sandler

  "Does it count that I'm going to be 60 in 9 months?
  
  The best part of being over 40 or 50, and even CLOSE to 60 is that I no longer have the schoolgirl mentality. I have the freedom to not worry about what others think about what I say, how I dress, or my ideology. I am a grown woman, with no ties, other than the ones the I CARE to have, and I can pretty much have dessert before dinner if I want to, with no one giving me the evil eye."
  
  Image courtesy of Zippy. Her blog is Champagne Living.

  /babble-voices/the-uppercase-lowdown-cecily-kellogg/2013/04/30/bloggers-over-40-smokin-hot-and-happy/#zippy-sandler
• 

  Cecily Kellogg

  "I didn't go gently into 40. I dyed my hair pink in honor of my 40th birthday, and I'll be the first to admit that I still dye it because I like how it startles people to see a woman my age pinked out. But just like everyone else said, I feel more like me now then I ever did, and I'm so grateful to be alive and in my skin."

  /babble-voices/the-uppercase-lowdown-cecily-kellogg/2013/04/30/bloggers-over-40-smokin-hot-and-happy/#cecily-kellogg
• 

  Karen Walrond

  "My 40s have been revelatory: I finally figured out whose opinion of me really matters most. It's a small group: my husband and daughter, a few very close friends who I trust implicitly, and who have my best interests at heart ... and me. I've learned in my 40s how to start turning down the volume of everyone else."
  
  Image courtesy of Karen. Karen shares beauty at Chookooloonks.

  /babble-voices/the-uppercase-lowdown-cecily-kellogg/2013/04/30/bloggers-over-40-smokin-hot-and-happy/#karen-walrond
• 

  Andrea

  “I love being 47. It is a fabulous stage of life. You realize, over 45, that life is very short and you have to take advantage of all good things or find good things.”
  
  Image courtesy of Andrea. She offers great info on books at Great Thoughts.

  /babble-voices/the-uppercase-lowdown-cecily-kellogg/2013/04/30/bloggers-over-40-smokin-hot-and-happy/#andrea

I have a sort of reverse body dysmorphic disorder. I’ve been overweight since my teen years (although I’d pay good money for the body I had back then, boy howdy), and in the years since I’ve gained more weight (and gained, and lost, and gained, and lost ad infinitim) I’ve accidentally trained myself to see just my face.

Not my body.

Definitely not my body.

I can go for months without seeing my whole body, allowing myself to believe my body is… well, just not really there.

I mean, I know I’m fat. I’m not stupid. But there’s a sort of willful blindness that makes it easy to just cut myself off emotionally from my physical state. It makes it very easy to, well, do nothing.

I recently had one of those snap-to-reality moments where I made a decision to acknowledge what I really look like. I also let go of a stance I’d been holding on body size acceptance, acknowledging that I want to lose weight and be smaller.

So I cleaned up my food and starting going back to the gym. I’ve been charting my progress with (gasp) photos of myself in my underwear. I’m working very hard at the gym, determined to stop huffing and puffing and to lose some pounds.

It’s been a success, so far; I feel better, look better, and clothes are fitting better. I can walk without pain, I can hike with my daughter, I sleep better and feel pretty damn good.

But I have to force myself – every single day – to look at my actual, real body and acknowledge how it looks. It’s the only way I can keep myself on track. It’s hard; it’s very easy to think I know what I look like.

Recently I watched the below ad and was really startled to see that I’m not alone in my body perception disorder. That even beautiful and slender women still perceive themselves completely differently than how they actually look.

Watch the ad. And then take another look in the mirror. Are you being fair to yourself?

When I was growing up, my mom wasn’t much of a cook. Part of that was situational; we were poor and there was only so much you could do with pinto beans, after all, but much of it was my mom felt about being a woman. As one of those early pioneering and marching women’s libbers, she wanted to be out of the kitchen as much as possible.

The same could not be said about my maternal grandmother. She loved cooking, and my visits to her as a child were spent perched on a stool in her kitchen watching her work. She wasn’t just about good food, either; she also loved the details. My grandfather’s liverwurst sandwich was served on a bed of lettuce, every day.

Once I could read, I found a cook book for kids in my grandmother’s kitchen. It was Betty Crocker’s Cook Book for Boys and Girls, and had belonged to my mother when she was little. Eventually I convinced my grandmother to let me take it home with me, and I would pore over the pages with glee, dreaming of making zoo cakes and mulligan stew.

Eventually, though, after a multitude of moves and cross-country relocations I managed to lose my copy of the book. So you can imagine my utter glee during a recent visit to a used bookstore (something we do as a family often), my daughter handed me a copy of the book and asked if we could buy it.

There might have been tears.

I still find the book incredibly charming, but it’s likely I’d have to adapt the recipes to attempt them now (after all, I don’t know what “top milk” is; cream? maybe?). But my daughter has adopted my habit of poring through the books and dreaming of baking.

Eventually, she and I will make that zoo cake. In the meantime, enjoy a collection of recipes from the book below!

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  Betty Crocker's Cookbook For Boys and Girls

  In all its 1957 glory – although oddly unsexist for its time!

  /babble-voices/the-uppercase-lowdown-cecily-kellogg/2013/04/26/betty-crockers-cook-book-for-boys-and-girls-1957/#betty-crockers-cookbook-for-boys-and-girls
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  Home Testers

  These twelve kids – eight girls and four boys – apparently tried all the recipes in the book. My fav quote is by Peter: "We learned what things mean, like baste and fold and sift."

  /babble-voices/the-uppercase-lowdown-cecily-kellogg/2013/04/26/betty-crockers-cook-book-for-boys-and-girls-1957/#home-testers
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  Whiz Cinnamon Rolls

  I've eyes cinnamon roll recipes in the past, but they always look like two much work. This recipe, however, looks pretty easy, doesn't it? Hence the "whiz" part.

  /babble-voices/the-uppercase-lowdown-cecily-kellogg/2013/04/26/betty-crockers-cook-book-for-boys-and-girls-1957/#whiz-cinnamon-rolls
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  Zoo Cake Recipe

  I'm not sure what it is about this recipe, but it utterly fascinated me as a kid. I wish I'd made it; it's actually very simple and easy. I think even a baking neophyte like me could do it.

  /babble-voices/the-uppercase-lowdown-cecily-kellogg/2013/04/26/betty-crockers-cook-book-for-boys-and-girls-1957/#zoo-cake-recipe
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  Zoo Cake Animals

  To top off your zoo cake, obviously. Do they still make a hexagon-shaped cheese cracker?

  /babble-voices/the-uppercase-lowdown-cecily-kellogg/2013/04/26/betty-crockers-cook-book-for-boys-and-girls-1957/#zoo-cake-animals
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  Butter Icing

  You'll be needing some icing for that zoo cake. Obviously. Um, does anyone know where I can get top milk?

  /babble-voices/the-uppercase-lowdown-cecily-kellogg/2013/04/26/betty-crockers-cook-book-for-boys-and-girls-1957/#butter-icing
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  Cookie Thief

  I only included this picture because it's so incredibly adorable.

  /babble-voices/the-uppercase-lowdown-cecily-kellogg/2013/04/26/betty-crockers-cook-book-for-boys-and-girls-1957/#cookie-thief
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  Drum Cake

  When I think about the 4th of July cakes I see on Pinterest (such as this one), I find myself loving the simplicity of this cake even more. Of course, you'll have to remember to save candy canes from Christmas. Or maybe you could just make this a Christmas cake.

  /babble-voices/the-uppercase-lowdown-cecily-kellogg/2013/04/26/betty-crockers-cook-book-for-boys-and-girls-1957/#drum-cake
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  Easter Hat Cake

  "Easter is a time when every girl wants a new hat. Here's one you can eat."
  
  Can't beat that copy.

  /babble-voices/the-uppercase-lowdown-cecily-kellogg/2013/04/26/betty-crockers-cook-book-for-boys-and-girls-1957/#easter-hat-cake
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  Easter Hat Photo

  It's even more charming in the photo, isn't it? And far easier to make than, say, this one, no?

  /babble-voices/the-uppercase-lowdown-cecily-kellogg/2013/04/26/betty-crockers-cook-book-for-boys-and-girls-1957/#easter-hat-photo
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  Mother Heart Cake

  OMG, I love this cake so much. I would be thrilled to get this on Mother's Day (gluten free, naturally). Much better than this one.

  /babble-voices/the-uppercase-lowdown-cecily-kellogg/2013/04/26/betty-crockers-cook-book-for-boys-and-girls-1957/#mother-heart-cake
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  Mulligan Stew

  This easy recipe for stew looks, well, edible. This is the "boy" campout section of the cookbook.

  /babble-voices/the-uppercase-lowdown-cecily-kellogg/2013/04/26/betty-crockers-cook-book-for-boys-and-girls-1957/#mulligan-stew
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  Relishes

  Oh my word. Look at those cute carrot people. I could just eat them up! With ranch dressing, please.

  /babble-voices/the-uppercase-lowdown-cecily-kellogg/2013/04/26/betty-crockers-cook-book-for-boys-and-girls-1957/#relishes
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  Three Men In A Boat

  Not every recipe is a gem. This recipe calls for (gulp) creamed dried beef inside the potato skins, with three mushrooms as the "men" and american cheese slices as sails. Well, that cheese is better as sails, am I right?

  /babble-voices/the-uppercase-lowdown-cecily-kellogg/2013/04/26/betty-crockers-cook-book-for-boys-and-girls-1957/#three-men-in-a-boat
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  Raggedy Ann Salad

  I'm not sure how, exactly, this qualifies as a salad (the single piece of lettuce? maybe?), but here it is. The body is a canned peach half, arms and legs are celery sticks, eyes and buttons and feet are raisins, and the hair is grated cheese. Um, yum? But cute though.

  /babble-voices/the-uppercase-lowdown-cecily-kellogg/2013/04/26/betty-crockers-cook-book-for-boys-and-girls-1957/#raggedy-ann-salad

I was about 16, I think, when I developed a fast-moving crush on a gay boy. He showed up at my Michigan suburban high school from New York, joined the school’s stage crew where I was the student crew chief, and blew my mind.

He was hilarious, flamboyant, and had a huge, generous heart. Because he was a boy and I was a girl and I am not gay, having a crush on him was a programmed response from me, even though I totally had a straight boyfriend. I found myself fawning over him and giggling when he admired my hand ripped t-shirts and koolaid dyed hair (it was 1984, give me a break).

Not long before he moved back to New York, I remember overhearing some of the jocks at school calling him a faggot and making fun of him. I remember glancing at him to see if he’d heard and watching his face grow shuttered and drawn, his shoulders hunched down, and his light dim.

I hated those jock boys so much in that moment. This was the moment I became a gay rights advocate.

Things have gotten better since 1984, right? Not so much, sadly. That’s why the Gay, Lesbian, and Straight Education Network is advocating the Day of Silence tomorrow on April 19th to call attention to name calling and bullying that happens in relationship to gender identity and sexual preference. The movement started in 1996 at the University of Virginia, and is now all over the country.

I’d love to see this spread around the country! Good luck, kids. I’ll be thinking of you.

PS: in the video below, Saad looks so much like the boy I had a crush on, it kills me.