caerula's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- multitasking, dreck, and good in bed What is one to think when one gets an off-handed, out of the blue sort-of compliment from co-worker 22 years one's senior? Well, nothing, if said comment was "You look nice today," or something similarly innocuous. But when comment is along the lines of "Ooh, I love a woman in a sleeveless shirt," the reaction is no longer clear cut. It's odd. When I write it down, that comment looks slightly sleazy, verging on almost-harrassement. But said co-worker, hereafter to be known as Sherman, is nothing like that. He's a nice, witty, friendly guy with whom I've had a great relationship since coming to work here six months ago. Comment this morning was in the same vein, when I went into his cube for my morning dose from the M&M's candy dispenser he keeps on his desk and a glance through the Freep that he brings in with him every morning. I like Sherman a lot. Enough that his compliment this morning made me feel a bit off kilter, a bit uncomfortable, but also dopily pleased. As if, in my plaid sleeveless blouse from Target and denim capris, I'm channeling Sandra Dee and emoting a vibe that says summer, sun, sand, sex, instead of looking like a chick with chunky arms in an office with sporadic air-conditioning on a day predicted to hit 95 degrees F. So I'll take it as intended, a nice off-handed compliment, and stop obsessing. Yeah right. Which sort of leads me into my next topic. I recently finished reading Good in Bed by Jennifer Weiner. I know, I've extolled the innumerable virtues of this book before, as has N, but I'm going to talk about it again. When I was reading it, and just after, I was only conscious of the pure enjoyment I got from the witty writing, the lovable main character, and the raw truth of the emotions. As I've thought about it more -- and it's been stuck in the back of my consciousness since I finished it last week -- it's made me think a lot about body image, and how screwed up most women are because of the expectations American society has come to place on them. I grew up completely hating my body because I was a little bit overweight. Of course I'm a little heavy -- my mom, my grandma, my aunts, my sisters -- the women in my family are not skinny, and never will be. I will never be thin, just like I will never be tall. I'm not built that way. It's only lately that I've come to realize that not being thin doesn't necessarily make me fat, and that I'm not undesirable because my arms are a little chunky and my hips are wide. My brain has known that for years, but it's taken a long time for the rest of me to catch up. But I think I'm finally, finally getting over it. And reading this book really did help. Part of it, I think, is that Cannie, the main character, has to come to terms with her body all by herself. Having a boyfriend doesn't make her automatically feel loved, having a great job or a huge stroke of luck doesn't cause her to lose 50 pounds and have a thin revelation. In the end, she comes to like herself, and her body, for what she is capable of. That struck me, hard. And it's a wonderful thing in this book, it's a cause for celebration. She doesn't celebrate when she goes down a size, she celebrates when she realizes that size doesn't make a difference because she is strong and healthy and loving and happy. It's not an instant transformation, for Cannie or for me. I'll struggle with this for a lot longer, I know. Maybe I'll get fat, maybe I'll get skinnier. I will continue to look at myself in the mirror and see the flaws before I see the good points. But there are good points, and that's the important thing. On a completely unrelated note, I just took this quiz and discovered that apparently my ideal place to live is Little Rock, Arkansas. Hmmm. That's where mom and dad lived when they first got married, and not by choice -- only because that's where the Air Force decided Dad should go upon returning from Vietnam. They left ASAP, and you know, I've never felt a strong need to investigate any further. I'm sure it's a lovely place, please don't flame me, Mr. Arkansas-native. But this just proves that online quizes are dreck, which of course I already knew but I can't help taking them anyway. Just like I can't help flipping to "The Weakest Link" or "Judge Judy" occasionally, or listen to the teenybopper radio station for a few horrified, frozen minutes in the car. I don't what it is, but I have a soft spot for dreck. I'm really fairly intelligent, honestly. Really. Heh. I have TEN windows open right now on my computer. I'm eternally grateful I don't work at one of those places that tracks your computer usage. Hey, four of the the windows are running work-related programs. Let's see...the others are 1)my personal email 2)my file manager for my mainstream (read, where I use my real name and have actualy productive information instead of nattering) website 3)Diaryland members area 4)that quiz I just took 5) Notepad, where I'm messing about with some HTML coding and 6) this one. I am very very into multitasking. 9:25 a.m. - 2001-08-07 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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