Thursday, February 17, 2011

When is Enough, Enough?

Joan Holloway from "Mad Men" via wesewfashion.wordpress.com

Thanks to a friend, I've recently developed an obsession with the AMC television series "Mad Men." According to the official website (for those of you who aren't familiar with the series):

Set in 1960s New York, the sexy, stylized and provocative AMC drama Mad Men follows the lives of the ruthlessly competitive men and women of Madison Avenue advertising, an ego-driven world where key players make an art of the sell.

Numerous social issues have struck me in this series, but an issue in particular stood out from the rest. One of the female characters, Joan Holloway, is curvaceous and portrayed as a sex symbol. Today, Joan would be considered "plus-sized," which has a stigma in our society.

A few weeks ago, a few friends and I were aimlessly walking around Radio City Music Hall and a discussion commenced over the females' bodies in this series. We all wondered how the voluptuous Joan Holloway’s and Marilyn Monroe’s of yesteryear became the gaunt Nicole Richie's and Kate Bosworth’s of today. How did we go from size 8 (Marilyn Monroe) being the norm to size 0? Why does the media continuously pummel Jessica Simpson for having a REAL woman's body?

This conversation got me thinking about my own personal struggles with weight and  my peers' similar struggles. 

Personal Struggles:

In middle school and high school I was always thin. I was meticulous about what I put in my body and played year-round travel softball, so I always had some sort of exercise regiment in place. Despite being thin and in-shape, I still thought I was "fat." I would put myself on ridiculous diets before dances and proms to ensure I would look my best. To truly paint the picture for you, my softball coach told me he thought I had an eating disorder on a post-high school visit.

College brought new struggles when it came to my weight. I cared so much (too much) about how I looked in high school, that I found myself burnt out once I hit college. I stopped caring about what I ate and how much I worked out.  Freshman year brought the freshman 15 (and then some.) I'll never forget the stunned looks on my parents' and friends’ faces when I came home for the summer. Sophomore year I decided I couldn't live with my large alter ego any longer. I allowed myself to consume 1,000 calories per day and killed myself at the gym. I received the attention and compliments I so desperately wanted, and yet I was still miserable. I tortured myself over not losing weight fast enough and hated that I didn't look the way I wanted to in clothes. 

The lowest point in my college weight battle came the summer going into my senior year. A new website called Juicy Campus (it has since been shut down) came on the scene. Juicy Campus allowed college students to post gossip about their peers. The first (and last time) I logged on the site, I found myself caught off guard by the level of viciousness of the comments posted.  I stumbled upon a post about my sorority, which claimed that we had mandatory gym hours. I laughed to myself at how ridiculous of a statement this was. Then, I saw my name. My heart stopped and I felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. Someone commented something along the lines of, "HAHA this is so untrue. If it were, Laura Spaventa and XX would not be a part of Alpha Phi. Laura and XX, you're whales! Go join YY [another sorority] where you belong.” I sat there dumbfounded and unable to wrap my head around what I had just read.

My junior year I had struggled through a bout of depression and ballooned up once again. I didn't realize how bad it was until I read the post on Juicy Campus. I was crushed. I didn't eat for days and when I finally admitted to my parents what happened their jaws dropped. I had friends and family tell me that the post was a load of crap, that someone was obviously jealous of me. Nothing they said comforted me. 

I didn't want to go back to school at the end of the summer. I wondered how many people thought I was a whale. Once I returned to school, I rarely went out. When my absence from the social scene was questioned, I told people I was focusing on school. This was partially true, but I also wanted to hide myself from my peers. I didn't want to give anyone ammo. I let a coward, who posted an anonymous comment, shape my senior year.

Others' Struggles:

In college, I had a very close friend go through a nasty eating disorder. My friends and I were at a loss. We had no idea how to help her and watched her slowly waste away. She finally received the help she needed, but she was never quite the same. 

Since moving to New York, I have come in contact with numerous walking skeletons. I've seen so many decrepit women walking around the city, where it is obvious years of abusing their bodies have caught up to them. I have also seen girls my age who probably can't remember the last time they ate.

There is one woman who really has shaped my perspective on this issue. I go to the gym regularly and this woman is always there when I arrive, and is still there when I leave. Her spandex hangs off of her tiny body  and she has had some obvious work done on her face.  Every day I catch her starring at herself sadly in the mirror. Here is a woman who has the stick figure body that society tells us we should have, and yet she is still miserable. What does that say?
Today's standard of "beauty."


So What?

I've watched (and have participated in) people cut themselves off from particular foods or beverages they love, embark on crazy diets, calorie counting, etc, all for the sake of having the "perfect" waistline. Why do we do this to ourselves? I'm not saying we shouldn't exercise and that we should eat any and everything we want. Obesity is an issue all of its own. Yet, we have one life. Why are we constantly killing ourselves to fit what we think society expects of us? Does society even expect us to be a certain weight or are we putting some made-up pressures on ourselves? 

The sick cycle so many of us find ourselves in when it comes to our weight is due to a combination of pressures from ourselves and the "Mad Men" of the world. When will we silence our inner demons and tell the suits enough is enough? When are we going to stop basing our self-worth on the numbers that pop up on a little metal box? How we feel should not be based on an actual number, rather it should be based on whether we are living a healthy lifestyle. It is all about moderation and balance.

With that said, I am a woman, not a little boy. I should and will have curves. I've had enough of worrying over whether  I'm fat or not. Have you had enough?

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Adult Decisions

Craig's List sends shivers down my spine. 

I am known to make quick decisions and not to think things through sometimes. As my mom would say, I am very impulsive. Before joining the "real world" I could get away with my impulsive tendencies for the most part. However, once I graduated college and faced some big decisions, I realized I needed to work on thinking before I acted.

Looking for a place to live is tough in general, but nothing compares to apartment hunting in New York City. The words nightmare, dreadful, and painful comes to mind, as I write this post. The sad part is, those words don't even do the NYC apartment hunt justice.

Rent in New York is already expensive, but add broker fees, first month rent, etc, and you're looking at an empty bank account before you can even blink. One of my favorite articles on living in New York describes a New York inhabitant's dilemma perfectly:

"Discover the cruel and bizarre world of New York City real estate. End up spending an obscene amount of money on something called a broker’s fee, first and last month’s rent and a security deposit. Cry a little bit in the leasing office but remind yourself that you’re so happy to be here."

I'll never forget laying in my bed at my parent's house crying in fetal position once I realized how much money I would have to fork over up front in order to sign for my current apartment. I couldn't understand how one little apartment could cost so much. Yet, I had my heart set on New York, so I handed over everything in my savings to live the dream. 

My roommate and I recently embarked on the dreaded apartment hunt. Craig's List and e-mails with brokers took over our lives. Every spare second we had was spent looking at apartments. My life revolved around finding an apartment and other aspects of my life quickly suffered. I wasn't sleeping, I was struggling to keep up at work, I had zero "me" time-- the list goes on.  To make matters worse, unforeseen circumstances popped up that crippled our hunt. By the end of a week of searching, I was exhausted, broken hearted, and discouraged. 

When I first moved to New York, I struggled to make rent and pay for my various other bills. I lived paycheck to paycheck and often wondered if I'd be able to survive before payday. I received a raise over the summer, and suddenly I could breathe again. I didn't struggle any longer for the most part and my life became pretty comfortable. The apartments we were looking at would have reverted me back to living paycheck to paycheck and empty my savings. To be honest, I didn't really want to go back to that lifestyle again.

Our  little apartment suddenly didn't look so bad. My roommate was the first to say it out loud, "Let me ask you this, do we even want to move?" As hard as it was for both of us to accept, we knew the answer. Yes, we wanted bigger beds, a living room, and to be closer to the subway. However, we both have worked hard to get to where we are and didn't want to ruin ourselves financially over a new apartment that didn't even fit the criteria we had set.

In the past, I would have spent the money and dealt with the consequences later, but the new adult in me wasn't having it. Bad credit and poor finances can ruin you for a lifetime. I can put up with not being 100% happy for a year in a small apartment. As the Fray sings, "Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same." My roommate and I made an extremely difficult decision, yet I know it is the right one for us. Adult decisions sometimes aren't fun or what you want, but hey, that's life.