By Guest Blogger on March 15, 2011
by Cora Poage
For many years I was caught in a steamy, intimate and tumultuous relationship. I would call it codependent, maybe slightly abusive. I placed my “Ex” on a pedestal and truly saw him as an idol of sorts. If my Ex was kind to me, I had a fabulous day. If he was moody or “off,” my day was ruined. I was yearning for freedom from my partner, but I was too scared to leave or move on.
Who was this ex-partner I speak of? I will give you three hints:
1. He was very quiet.
2. He lived in the bathroom.
3. He only saw me naked.
Drum roll please … My ex-partner was …
My scale!
We used to be a really tight pair. There are days from my past where I weighed myself three or more times a day. Heck, my scale was seeing more of my naked body than my husband (sorry, Babe).
If the number on the scale was lower than the time before, I was happy. If it was the same or higher, then I was devastated. For many years, I allowed my scale to determine my self-worth. I allowed my life to be controlled by a tiny piece of metal. I was obsessive.
Then one day I had enough of this crazy relationship. I realized it was time for the dreaded Break Up. I decided to throw away my scale. Okay, okay, not quite. I told my hubby to hide it from me. Boy, did I go through withdrawal. I spent many a day ransacking the apartment searching frantically for the elusive scale.
But once I made it through the initial shock stage and the mourning process, I began healing. These days my self-worth is not measured by a shiny metal object in the bathroom. I look in the mirror, and I love what I see — whether or not I’ve reached some magic number on the scale. And like magic, as my inner healing took place, and I repaired my relationship with my body, I naturally began to release weight! My body really responded to the trust and love that I was finally showing towards her.
Breaking up with my scale was one of the most difficult decisions I have ever made. Yet, ending that relationship gave me freedom: freedom to know that I am so much more than a number, freedom to believe that I am beautiful and worthy whatever my weight. Most importantly, when I ended my obsessive relationship with the scale, I chose to embrace my body with love and acceptance.
There are moments when I am tempted to go back. I see that sexy and slim scale in my gym locker room, and I think, “Just a quick little weigh-in won’t hurt, a tiny rendezvous.”
Then I shake my head, stand in front of the mirror and send my body a mental love letter of gratitude and awe. I bravely walk past the tempting scale and towards my true freedom.
How will you show your body some love today?
Cora Poage is a Holistic Health Coach and owner of Sexy Soul Wellness. She helps her clients co-manifest their ideal bodies and lives through Soul-Centered Eating, Exercising and Living. For support on Loving Your Body, Owning Your Power, and Living Your Dreams email Coach Cora at cora@sexysoulwellness.com
Photo credit: incurable_hippie
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By Guest Blogger on March 19, 2010
By Virginia
I soap my hands up with cleanser and hover over Stephanie’s face. “Go on, get in there!” says our teacher, Miss Jenny. “You won’t hurt her.”
I press on Stephanie’s shoulders and start stroking up her neck and over her chin and cheeks. That shoulder move is key; we learned that if you touch your client’s face right off the bat, they’ll jump out of the bed. Next I start circling into the folds around Stephanie’s nose and all around her forehead until she’s covered in a thin layer of foam.
After spending four weeks with Stephanie as classmates at Beauty U, I know an assortment of random facts: She has a one-year-old nephew. She curses her oily skin. She just had two dates with a new guy, but there was no spark.
But suddenly, she stops being Stephanie (aunt, skin-obsesser, dater of spark-less dudes) and becomes just a face — an upside down series of planes and curves that I need to cover in cleanser and wipe clean with a cotton pad. It’s like when you say a word too many times in a row and suddenly can’t remember what it means.
Per Miss Jenny’s instructions, I repeat the cleansing and apply toner. When I finish, she opens her eyes and is Stephanie again. We laugh.
“Remember, we’re promoting relaxation,” says Miss Jenny. That means you want your client to totally unwind and let their guard down. But if Stephanie and I were training for any other profession, I wouldn’t have much reason to scrub the underside of her nose. And I’m learning that it’s a weird feeling to be responsible for someone else’s relaxation when you’re feeling anything but that yourself.
By the way, I know you didn’t ask, but here it is: I have a college degree. And I’ve spent the last six years as a pretty successful freelance writer. I’m telling you that because it tends to confuse people when I explain that I’m in a ten-month night school program at my local beauty school, training to become a certified esthetician. When you say “beauty school,” everyone thinks of that song in Grease and associates beauty school with something that high school “bad girls” like Rizzo and Frenchie do because they aren’t smart enough or rich enough to go to college.
Everyone is not completely wrong. A lot of my Beauty U classmates didn’t go to college and currently work service industry jobs (waitress, daycare worker, home healthcare aide). They’re hoping an esthetics or cosmetology license will be their way out and up. In the current recession, there are also a fair amount of women who are out of work or looking to bring in extra income. (By the way, Stephanie is a guidance counselor.)
I’m not a career changer, though. Like most women, especially, upper-middle class 20-something women, I’m a beauty consumer. I’m enrolled at Beauty U because I want to know exactly what I’m buying when I shell out for a facial, a haircut, or a tube of lip gloss.
According to the Bureau of Economic Analysis, American consumers spent almost $85 billion on beauty products and services in 2008. That’s an awful lot of eye shadow and manicures. I didn’t keep receipts, but I’m guessing I chipped in at least $1,200 of that—between three or four haircuts ($120 a pop, plus products), five or six mani-pedis ($40 each, plus tip), an occasional bikini wax ($50, plus tip), and a whole mess of goodies from Sephora, Whole Foods’ Whole Body section, and my local CVS. Depending on your own personal beauty routine, I either sound high maintenance ($120 for a haircut? It’s New York City), like a slob (only two bikini waxes a year!? Sorry, they hurt like hell), or average, which is how I like to think of myself. And as a just-about-average beauty industry consumer, it made me sad to learn that while we’ve been dropping all that cash, the average salon worker earns just $8 to $15 per hour…including tips.
No, they are not sweatshop wages, and yes, there are super fancy stylists earning much more. But even high-end estheticians earn an average of $15 per hour, 40 hours per week, 52 weeks a year, which is only $31,200. Before taxes. And these are jobs that don’t offer much in the way of health insurance, retirement plans, or paid vacations.
Plus, that doesn’t take into account the human costs. Like, what happens when the cleanser I lathered all over Stephanie isn’t subjected to pre-market safety testing? Just ask Blog Posse member Stacy Malkan: Since the FDA doesn’t require beauty products to disclose all of their ingredients or prove they’re safe, most end up containing gender-bending chemicals, and carcinogens , which salon staff absorb for hours, days, and years at a time. Consumers absorb a steady stream in smaller doses; I apply at least nine products before I leave the house every day.
But what about the other hidden human costs? How does a 13-year-old feel when her mom brings her in for a bikini wax? For that matter, how do any of us feel about ever-more-constricting beauty standards that demand perfection from our every (hairless, invisible) pore? The beauty industry has successfully blurred the line between indulgence and necessity so that treatments that were once viewed as luxuries—manicures, facials, bikini waxes—are now viewed as essential. And while our self-esteem takes a hit, I’d argue that this quest for perfection degrades salon workers too. These are the people we pay to get up close and personal with the parts of our bodies that we hate the most. No wonder most of us prefer not to make eye contact.
Once I started thinking about all the ways women pay for beauty—with our wallets, self-worth, and health—I kind of couldn’t stop. I don’t think we should have to give up on our favorite beauty indulgences. Honest! I just called to confirm yet another $120 hair appointment. But I decided to go to beauty school and spend 600 hours learning to excavate pores, apply makeup, and wax bikini lines in order to get a better understanding of what we’re all really paying. Check out beautyschooledproject.com to see what I’ve uncovered so far.
Virginia is a writer by day, beauty school student by night. She owns 14 tubes of pink lip gloss and hates to brush her hair. You can visit her at her blog .
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By Guest Blogger on March 16, 2010
By Amy Ahlers
“You don’t deserve it.”
“Who do you think you are?”
“This will never work out for you, you know that, right?”
Recognize that voice? It’s the voice of your Inner Mean Girl.
She’s negative. She’s catty. She’s judgmental.
She compares your worst to everyone else’s best—in her eyes, you lose every time.
She spews cruel words at you and makes you feel like you are in seventh grade again. Her favorite thing to do is make you feel small, inadequate, and unworthy. She’s always finding evidence to prove her theory: you are not enough.
It’s time to stop letting her run the show!
Try the three steps below to stand up to your Inner Mean Girl once and for all:
1. Identify your Inner Mean Girl’s top ten places, situations and environments where she likes to show up and criticize. Is it at work? Social events? In bed? Every time you look in the mirror? Once you know what circumstances are likely to trigger her, you can be better prepared to deal with her.
2. Next, draw a picture of your Inner Mean Girl. Is she fat with big glasses? Perfectly pressed and all in pink? A slob with a cigarette in one hand and a martini in the other? Don’t worry if you think you can’t draw; no one will ever see this but you, so go for it! And if you really don’t want to draw, can you find an image in a magazine or on the Internet that captures your Inner Mean Girl? It’s important that you have a clear mental image of that voice that tortures you.
3. Get to know your Inner Mean Girl. Notice what makes her happy and notice what makes her power diminish. What happens if you just yell “Shut up!” at her? What if you look her calmly in the eye and reassure her that everything is going to be all right? Maybe she needs a compliment every now and then. After all, Inner Mean Girls need love, too.
I’ve got news for you: your Inner Mean Girl is a liar.
She tells you big fat lies to try to maintain the status quo and keep you in your comfort zones—even if your comfort zones aren’t all that comfortable. For example: poor body image, constant financial distress, or any addictive behavior can be an area where your Inner Mean Girl thrives. She will tell you over and over again that “you can’t change” and “you’re a loser.”
But those are lies. You can change and you are certainly not a loser. In fact, you are magnificent.
Once you realize that she is a liar, see if you can’t catch her lying to you. (Hint: whenever you’re feeling bad about yourself, she’s probably right there with a megaphone.)
Then, take these three simple steps to see through your Inner Mean Girl’s lies:
1. What is my Inner Mean Girl saying? Write it down. Can you identify the lies?
2. What does my higher self/inner wisdom believe? Write it down. Can you see the truth? (Hint: it helps to sometimes close your eyes and take a deep breath before asking this question. The truth is always there, waiting to set you free.)
3. Now write down an action you want to take in light of this new information. Is there something or someone you need to commit to? Something you must stop doing? A new perspective you will hold? Do you need to forgive yourself or someone else?
Here is the truth: your Inner Mean Girl is really a voice of insecurity and anxiety. Uncertain of her own power, she becomes a bully. Once you start really listening and writing down her rants and accusations, it’s easy to put her in her place.
The truth is, you are fabulous.
And I know, because my Inner Wisdom told me so.
This article was written by Amy Ahlers, creator of The Women Masters and CEO of Wake-Up Call Coaching.
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