Dear Adina

Your 21st Century Dear Abby

I am a 35-year-old woman. I have a friend who talked me into making a sizable “no-risk” investment to have a business service done—so he said. Well, I gave him a few thousand dollars upon his strong urging. Bottom line, I lost all my money, and at first, he said he could refund my money. So I waited patiently. Finally, I started reminding him little by little to get my money back and he said he was working on it. Needless to say, he has never repaid me. It has been over two years now, and I am very angry about it. I feel like I was duped! He acts like nothing happened, but I cannot forget that I threw away a lot of money (that I could use right now in fact) every time I speak to him. I am afraid that if he doesn’t make an effort to refund my money soon, I can no longer be his friend. Oddly, I feel like I was betrayed, even though he claims that it was not his fault. It’s just that he promised me that I would get my money back, or the service for which I paid would be done. Neither has happened.

Adina, I really need your advice. How do I continue to be this person’s friend feeling the way I do? Or is the friendship doomed?

Stupidly Duped,
Linda

—Adina’s Response—

Dear Duped,
I’m sorry to say, but you are just going to have to let go of the money. You made an investment and it didn’t pay off. I know it’s hard to accept that the money is gone, and it is even more painful when you think about all the fabulous shoes you could have bought with that money. But the bottom line is that you took a risk and made an investment; the money that you gave your friend was not a loan. You mention that your friend “strongly urged” you to make the investment, but ultimately it was your choice. Now, you just have to come to terms with the consequences of your choice. I know this doesn’t make losing the money any easier, but trust me—there is a lesson in all of this. They say that mixing friendship and money is a recipe for trouble, but there are a few other ingredients in that recipe if I recall. I think it involves a cup of accepting responsibility for your actions, a teaspoon of not blaming others, and just a pinch of learning from your mistakes.

After letting all of this bake in your mind, you can then ask yourself if you still want to be friends with the bad investor. This is a decision only you can make.

Head Chef with many recipes up my sleeve,
Adina

The Beauty Agenda

Flaunting Fabulously

A New Column by Patricia Lee

Why not let holiday shopping be the only reason for the winter woes? Battle brassy, blah hair and bothersome, badly timed blemishes, perfect your pout, and flaunt fabulous fingers and toes to sparkle and shine during the holidays.

Q: My highlighted hair seems to be turning brassy and orange after a few weeks, and the color doesn’t seem as bright and fresh. Is there anything I can do about it?

A: A self-professed highlight junkie, I can completely relate to your situation. Highlights offer tremendous transformational effects on one’s hair and look. Scores of individuals love and swear by them. Giving drab hair an extra oomph, accentuating curly hair or a great layered cut, and drawing attention to and brightening up one’s face prove to be just a few benefits of highlights. Often timely and pricey at many salons, it’s understandable that you would want to maintain that “just out of the salon” look. However, highlighted hair remains more delicate than untreated, uncolored, untouched hair and requires special care.

To boost the brilliance of blasé, brassy hair, try a chelating shampoo, such as Joico’s Resolve Chelating Shampoo, which removes dulling product buildup and mineral deposits. After wetting hair, work the luster-boosting liquid into your hair, allowing it to penetrate and work its magic for about five minutes. After rinsing out the shampoo, apply a bit of conditioner to the bottom half of your hair to drench dehydrated ends. If you live in areas like Los Angeles, which harbor higher mineral deposits in the water, liven up lifeless hair and counter copper tones by using a chelating shampoo once a week.

Ultimately, infrequent washings prove most prudent in maintaining multi-colored hair. Containing harsh chemicals to remove gunk and grease, shampoos simultaneously strip color as they clean. In between washes, pulling hair into a pretty ponytail or creating a cute, messy up-do refreshes the repetitive and routine. If one’s hair desperately needs a wash due to excessive oil, select a dry shampoo, such as Klorane Extra Gentle Dry Shampoo with Oat Extract (in a convenient aerosol can) or Bumble & Bumble’s Hair Powder, working in the oil-obliterating product really well. And with that, I bid you happy highlighting.

Q: I have an important event to attend in a couple of days and need to hide a red, irritated blemish I’ve popped. Please help!

A: Breakouts seem to cruelly crop up at the most inopportune times. First, calm down and keep your frisky fingers from further fiddling with your face. Sebum-inducing stress and constant contact can contribute to far more flare-ups. To boost your immune system, you may wish to go the holistic route, taking vitamins such as chelated zinc. For information on vitamin supplements, contact your pharmacist or doctor for dosage and supplement information.

Irritated and inflamed, the rupture may still be red. To cut back crimson tones, you can try to drip a few drops of Clear Eyes or Visine onto the area, allowing the potion to penetrate the skin. Most often within minutes, you’ll notice reduced redness in the area. After applying makeup, dab a dot of green-toned concealer on the blemish, gently blending the red-nixing neutralizer; do away with weird, whitish-looking skin by avoiding over application. Dipping a decent amount of loose powder onto a triangular makeup sponge, completely cover the area, allowing it to sit and settle onto the skin. Follow up with the finale: dust your entire face with loose powder, a bit of bronzer and blush, and you’ve successfully squelched the sightly spot.

The Chronicles of Narnia – Author C. S. Lewis

How grateful I am for the recent movie The Chronicles of Narnia:The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe! No, I have not yet seen the movie, but because I had been planning for many years now to revisit the series, some of whose novels I had enjoyed with my son who is now thirty-two years old, I found the Christmas season the appropriate time to do that, as well as introduce my two youngest granddaughters to the masterful art of C. S. Lewis. My Christmas gift to them was a beautiful collector’s item that contained all seven novels: The Magician’s Nephew, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, The Horse and His Boy, Prince Caspian, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, The Silver Chair, and The Last Battle. My gift to myself was a less expensive version, which I just completed.

You see, great-grandmother that I am, I am just as enamored of fantasy as the many young people today, and like them, I eagerly await J. K. Rowling’s seventh Harry Potter. When J. R. R. Tolkien’sThe Lord of the Rings was re-popularized by the movies, I reread all three of those books. One day I plan to reread The Hobbit.

What is the appeal for The Chronicles of Narnia? For children, of course, it’s pure fantasy! They will simply enjoy the adventures of the children of Adam and Eve in the paradisiacal world of Narnia, that C. S. Lewis so beautifully peopled with talking animals, mythological figures such as satyrs, centaurs, dryads, naiads . . . legendary dwarfs . . . He has masterfully woven religion, legend, mythology into a beautifully written fantasy adventure. For the more sophisticated reader, it is allegory. Each of the characters and each of the events represent (symbolize) a human character and an event in the chronology of our world. Aslan, for example, may be viewed as a Christ figure. Killed by the wicked witch very early in the chronology, like Christ, he is resurrected. No matter your religion, you will see the parallels.

Because reading is so important, I celebrate anything that entices young people to fall in love with books. So if you haven’t discovered The Chronicles of Narnia, do run out and buy the series. You will be richly rewarded while you wait for the nextHarry Potter.

Written by Lee Lemon Peoples

The Mermaid Chair – Author Sue Monk Kidd

The Mermaid Chair
Sue Monk Kidd

Reviewed by Lee Lemon Peoples

Jessie was nine years old when her father’s boat exploded, reportedly because of a leaking fuel line, ignited by a spark from the pipe she had given her father as a gift for Father’s Day. At forty-two years old, happily married with her only child, a daughter, now in college, Jessie experiences a feeling of restlessness, which she does not understand nor does she confront until she is called back home to take care of her mother. For some unknown reason, Nelle Dubois, her mother, has chopped off the index finger (the “pointing” finger) on her right hand. Returning to Egret Island, a tiny barrier island off the coast of South Carolina, where she grew up, she meets and falls in love with Brother Thomas, a Benedictine monk with conflicts of his own.

Sue Monk Kidd, the best-selling author of The Secret Life of Bees, has this novel, The Mermaid Chair, set in the winter and spring of 1988. A year later her main character, Jessie Sullivan, looks back on the incident in an attempt to bear it by telling about it: “They say you can bear anything if you can tell a story about it.”

I’ve always admired people who were willing to take chances and suffer the consequences, but never did I dream I’d admire a woman (or a man for that matter) for infidelity, nor did I ever dream I’d admire the husband his forgiveness of that wife’s infidelity. While this novel has elements of mythology and legend (the mermaid chair, Saint Senara, a former mermaid), it is about Christianity, more specifically, Catholicism.

When Jessie was a child, her father told her the story of mermaids living in the waters around the island. Their main job was to save humans, he said, and years later, she wonders if they didn’t save her. Never ever having done anything out of the ordinary, she, at forty-two years old “dove” into impropriety:

Attachment and the Next Level: When Casual Dating Hits an Emotional Roadblock, How Do We Know When to Take It to the Next Level and When to Call It Quits?

Simply Single

Attachment and the Next Level:
When Casual Dating Hits an Emotional Roadblock, How Do We Know When to Take It to the Next Level and When to Call It Quits?

“I’m trying to find something wrong with him, but I just can’t find anything!” Amy emphatically exhaled. I kept silent, wondering if that was a sigh of relief because he seemed to be a genuinely nice guy, or of exasperation because she failed to find a flaw to decrease or deaden her growing feelings for him. “It’s only been three months,” Carrie reminded her. “You both are still in the honeymoon period. Give it some time before stressing out.” Ah, the honeymoon period. Almost always, new relationships experience a honeymoon period. Lasting for days, months, or years, it’s the initial courting period, during which everything seems and feels perfect in a relationship. The apple of one’s eye proves flawless in every way. Engaging conversations, delightful dates, great chemistry, amazing sex, displays of thoughtfulness, and everything else in between create a stress-free, drama-free rapport, as courters dish out 110% of effort to win over their crush. A highly impressionable period, its magic can win over crushes and even blur reality, mentally crippling some and making them unable to leave a bad or mediocre relationship.

Factoring time into the equation, once easygoing relationships can turn complex as emotions grow, feelings develop, and superficial layers are shed. Time exposes the true colors of most individuals, initially on their best behavior to impress their crush, as comfort and indolence set in and regression takes place. Time can also cause a person to grow on you, become more attractive, invade your mind more frequently, and so on. Many form some type of bond with the object of their affection, whether this bond is actual or imagined, mutual or one-sided. Most often, time leads to emotional attachment, as individuals begin adding emotional value to the new person in their life. During this time, daters concurrently enter the realm of cerebral thinking, creating mental, subjective pro-con lists about their date(s) and shaping their feelings. Perceptions of reality, desires, dislikes, and personal intentions influence one’s actions, interactions, and reactions towards his/her sweetheart, setting the stage for relationships ranging from fling, friend, and foe to fiancé, fluke, and plain frustrating.

Generally, as one or both parties develop feelings, a relationship eventually reaches a standstill, and one faces a juncture. Does one take it to the “next level,” leave it as is for as long as possible, end it, or let it fade? With at least two players to each game, individual feelings, wants, and expectations affect the path a relationship takes. Let’s say after three months, you and your current beau approach this fork in the road. If you’re both simply mad about each other, you effortlessly breeze into the next level. If both of you don’t care to take it anywhere, you effortlessly cut ties. If you don’t care for him much, feel he’s a waste of time, screen calls to avoid him, suffer from repulsion or annoyance by the sheer thought of him, and the like, you know the demise of this little romance draws near. Sound easy, right? Complexity enters the scene when you think your beau’s fantastic and want to take it to the next level, but his emotional murkiness leaves you unsure about where the two of you stand. In such instances, how does one know if and when a relationship could and should be taken to the next level? How does one know when to cut one’s losses and leave?

As with sampling new cuisine, dating usually takes time, practice, and experience in order to develop a better idea of what one likes, dislikes, wants, doesn’t want, and deserves. For instance, as a teenager I viewed sushi as trendy and disgusting, and as a result, my premature opinion negatively influenced my sushi experiences and prevented me from enjoying or giving it a fair chance. Years later, my view changed––I love sushi! Frequenting different sushi joints throughout the years, I eventually learned to distinguish between good and bad sushi, fresh and old sashimi, and worthwhile and rip-off establishments. Without much dining experience, I would probably call a sushi restaurant great, simply because of its great ambiance, trendiness, or great reviews. Instead of having knowledge and a personal preference of what I considered excellent, I’d fall prey to influence. Similarly, experience in dating usually can help many develop a list of preferences and a set of standards. Along with some experiences come heartaches. However, as wretched and hurtful as they may momentarily feel, heartbreaks and bad experiences can toughen one’s hide, helping one to realize that life isn’t over if or when one’s crush turns out to be nothing short of an inconsiderate idiot, providing the strength to leave a hopeless, negative situation. With a tougher hide, one often becomes more discriminating and less tolerant of the dallying and emotional manipulating kind, as expectations and feelings of self-worth increase. Admittedly, some with little or no dating experience can find their perfect someone and live happily ever after, but these instances seem to be quite anomalous.

The Law of Uncertainty

Sisyphus thought he would cheat death and squeal on Zeus when he committed adultery. He was doomed to spend an eternity in the Underworld pushing a boulder up a hill only to roll back down just before it reaches the top.

Tantalus tried to trick the gods by offering up his son Pelops as a main course. The gods were not fooled and Tantalus was punished by being placed in an underworld pool with food and drink placed just out of his reach. He would remain forever hungry and thirsty.

Sometimes I have found myself in patterns that are active demonstrations of the private hells of both Sisyphus and Tantalus, and I’ve wondered how I can break the cycle.

I have many jobs in life, but like many who long to spend their days doing what they love, I have to spend a fair amount of time earning a living at what may seem to some very unfulfilling work. I am a salesperson. I set appointments at least 8 hours a day, and when I get off at 5 p.m., I go to school to engage in what truly fulfills me, or at least this is what I thought until a few days ago.

I realized the repetitive task of meeting a quota day in and day out in itself can be my own personal meditation, as is making a long journey alone, I can find solitude and therefore, peace in the task itself.

What made me reach this point? I had an altercation with a fellow employee and suffered much angst for several days. I was breaking the pattern by asserting my voice. By asserting my voice I had to accept the battle that resulted.

I do not like confrontation; in fact, I avoid it. I had to take a long, hard look at what I was doing, and to my surprise, I discovered that I enjoy what I do.

The Taoist believes the only constant is change and even the most repetitive tasks vary if only within narrow limits. To contemplate and investigate the various sequences of change will engender tranquility that arises when loss, decay, and death are recognized as being no less essential to the whole than gain, growth, and life. Investigation permits one to see within certain limits that which will be inevitable.

I discovered what is inevitable about my job is that I will change, no matter how hard I resist. So I am thankful for the small volcanoes that erupt in the sea of repetition.

I understand that certain events are inevitable, and this brings me tranquility. I am a part of a cycle of change even when I am performing a mundane task.

What is mundane about my job is the constant dialing. I find the constant decline very mundane. When I become observant and aware even in the mundane, I find opportunity; and in this opportunity I find growth. I have become an investigator of sorts. I have discovered the minute detail in the repetitive pattern of the leaf. One leaf is very much like any other leaf, and one person telling me “no” is very much like another person telling me “no.” However, if you look very closely at two leaves that are side by side, you will see subtle differences. This demonstrates that each leaf is unique. I have discovered that each encounter, even though the outcome is no, is unique. In that discovery I have found personal fulfillment.

I remember driving home one day from a hard day at work. I was challenged just to work 8 hours. Up until then I was unaware that I had changed to accept the conditions of my work. I was simply putting my time in.

I drove with the music turned off and found my mind wandering as it does here and there. I happened on a moment of joy at work when I was engaging in the verbal exercise of overcoming an objection. I discovered I was more excited by the act than the outcome. At that moment I had to admit that I enjoy my work.

What I have gained by rolling that boulder up the hill or reaching for that pear just out of reach is strength and the ability to cope in the face of uncertainty.

Will I make quota? Will I be able to overcome the objection? Will my client be satisfied with my efforts? This represents change. I am not performing the mundane; I am taking part in the sales cycle, a dynamic process.

I have felt that I am walking along a cloud and the only thing keeping me afloat is the belief that I am on solid ground. This very attitude lends me some stability in a life that is often fraught with uncertainty, and that is what keeps me going.

The Power of Denim: A Love/Hate Relationship

. . . . So I’ve been struggling with this column for some time now because here’s my thinking: the jean craze ain’t goin’ nowhere. And for those wanting in with at least one pair of rocking bottoms to actually sport in public, sitting tall at a Smashbox fashion show, or to wear during fun Fridays at work, please—let’s hold hands, unite as one, and say together: “Jeans are not our enemies.”

The power of denim has not only become a popular trend among the fashion-conscious, but a ridiculously expensive OBSESSION that makes many of us put extra hours in just to afford something fabulous. So in trying to tackle an article about hunting for “the perfect jean,” my focus has become scrambled because not only is there no such thing, but in the past five years or so, since its explosion on American culture, finding the best pair of jeans for your body type is nearly impossible. Wait, I take that back; it’s possible. Just don’t expect to walk into a boutique and expect to be whisked away by your size hanging freely on the rack, hemmed to your height, and when doing squats in the fitting room, you’re able to bend over with nothing hanging out (good luck with that one). So in honor of my editor’s own frustration with the limited selection available for women who have sexy hips, a little bit of junk in the trunk, and who don’t aspire to a size 2, I’m going to attempt to offer ways toward simplifying the hunt for a flattering jean—and hopefully keep you from slashing your wrists in the process!

I know, new styles pop up everywhere, and yes, it can be overwhelming to narrow choices down. We have studded, distressed, high-waisted, low-waisted, barely-there low-waisted, patchwork, pocketed, no-pocketed, cargo, cropped, skinny, flared, bell bottomed, boot cut…. Need I continue? And believe me, I understand. Sometimes you feel as though you should go shopping with handcuffs on because you want to steal every gorgeous pair that feels like a personal tribute to your personality: “Oh my god, they shouldn’t have!” But also believe me when I say this: looks can be deceiving. If you don’t evaluate your expectations, reasoning, and needs before you hit up Nordstrom, Bloomingdale’s, Just Cavalli, Lucky Jeans, or anywhere you head for favorites, don’t be surprised if you feel like jetting the minute you walk into the fitting room with 20 pairs in tow. And speaking from experience as a former salesgirl, a current shopper, and a shopaholic’s sister, filling up your room with too many to count will do no good because all you’ll feel is frustration, panic, and exhaustion from hanging all the jeans back up (unless of course you’re one of those people who let poor salesgirls drop to their knees to clean up your mess). Sometimes what’s worse than not being able to find a pair that fits is, yes, finding too many that do. But that’s a whole other topic we won’t get into at this time.

So as you decide that this weekend is the weekend to make some headway, or some progress, in learning which designers create styles best for your body, don’t expect to find what you’re looking for the minute you get started because whether you’d love to find the right guy (just thought I’d throw that one in) or an awesome-fitting pair of jeans, perfection doesn’t exist, although, perfect for you most definitely is out there. Just don’t expect an overnight score.

Here are my top tips that have helped make my search for great jeans a (ahem) fun experience:

1) Give a girl a compliment… if you see someone wearing a pair you like. Most importantly, don’t be afraid to ask her where she scored them. But try doing it in a way that’s not so obvious. Ex: “Those are totally hot! Oh my gosh I just saw those at Planetfunk….” Whether you did or not is definitely not the point; what she’ll probably do is brag to you where they REALLY are from. Then voila! That’s one store you can already jot down as a possibility.

2) Invest in magazine subscriptions…Lucky Magazine is a given. I mean with all those cute “maybe,” “no,” and “yes” sticker, they practically hold your hand along the way. Some of my other favorites include Interview, Nylon, Vibe, and Flaunt. You’ll find tons of diverse-sized, ethnic models wearing hot designs, with listings of prices and brands close by, and possibly even 1-800 numbers that give you a scoot in the right direction.

3) Accept your body…be honest with yourself when it comes to your real size. No one said you have to tell anyone, but when it comes to a jean’s availability, the fabric that is designed for you, and the best cut to show off your curves without making you look “fat,” you must know your measurements. And remember for someone who is bottom-heavy or has recently had children, think stretch, stretch, stretch. A little give will do wonders and make you feel oh-so-comfy!

4) Make salesgirls your best friend… yes they can be annoying at times and all up in your business when you’re not ready to be helped––but they can also bring tears to your eyes being so damn good. A salesgirl can call other stores for your size, hunt in the back of stockrooms, ask another customer if she’s done trying on the size because she has another customer who is eager to try them on as well, personally deliver your package to your home, show you exactly which ones are “butt lifters,” which ones may go on sale soon, and even bring you blouses that will snazzy up those jeans even more. Even amidst your frustration, being friendly goes a long way. Letting her see your dynamic personality will definitely prompt her to keep you in mind when something arrives in your size and style.

And to keep you from giving up, remember: each brand seems to size differently, it’s not a personal attack against your self worth, and no, the gods do not have it in for you! What if you never find a pair that works out for you? Well, then you sport that hot black dress or long skirt you know you look good in! Forget about what is supposed to fit your body, and feel proud of what really does.
Besides, rumor has it they’re on the way out anyway… ssshhhhh.

Written by Elana Pruitt

A Cause Macabre: What Did We Learn from Stanley “Tookie” Williams?

Written by Natalie Martin

So this is how the so-called “socially responsible” public unites against a controversial government sanction? Critics of the death penalty maintain a special place in my heart because I am forever locked in a love/hate relationship with them. While I appreciate their concern for the disparate numbers of African American death row inmates, compared with non-black prisoners on the “Green Mile,” I can’t help but believe that they never seem to seriously think about the poster child they choose to use for their latest “anti-capital punishment” campaign. With the blanket commutation of more than one hundred people sitting on Illinois’ death row by the state’s departing Republican governor and the influence of DNA that is causing many justices to overturn convictions, clearly the argument exists that capital punishment is a flawed practice. However, in considering a new symbol to champion their cause, did death penalty opponents really think that Stanley “Tookie” Williams was the best choice for galvanizing support?
(Why must I feel compelled to preface the following diatribe with the words: “I am extremely pro-black”?)

Williams is not in any way, shape or form a hero. It befuddles me that anyone—especially someone black—would align him- or herself with an admitted gang member, killer (allegedly), and criminal. Let’s, for a second, go beyond his disputed involvement with the murders of four people in 1979 and look at the spectrum of Williams’ life: founder (or co-founder, depending upon whom you believe) of the infamous Crips gang; absentee father; accessory to armed robbery; children’s book author; Nobel Peace Prize candidate (multiple nominations); alleged murderer; and death row inmate. Is it too pessimistic to point out a glaring imbalance—in terms of “good vs. bad”—when looking at his background? No amount of redemption or anti-gang books can undo the enormous negative influence his actions have had on African American culture and urban communities. Lest I sound cold and callous, I believe that the legacy of his gang affiliation far outweighs the crimes for which he was tried, convicted, and executed. In no way am I mitigating the act of murder or undervaluing the suffering of his—again, alleged—victims because of their race. What I’m proposing is that, even in their tireless effort to bring Williams to justice, the U.S. courts overlooked the additional deaths for which urban gangs are responsible—call it “the osmotic casualty factor.” For Williams, perhaps benignly, the creation of the Crips was a way to quell inner-community violence and police brutality in poorer neighborhoods; however, the formation also spawned the self-perpetuating destruction of those same black and inner-city communities through drugs and crime.

An incalculable number of African Americans (and Latinos, and whites, ad infinitum) have died because of this man, and not a single opponent of the death penalty can deny the aftereffects of his prodigal progeny. In addition to providing black men one more stereotype that they must nullify, Williams and his clan did what I feel is worse than any routine racist act: They poisoned their own. It’s bad enough the black community must continue to fight institutionalized racism and prejudice to the point that blacks have become irreparably stratified. Now we have to deal with the self-destructive exploitation of our brethren at the hands of dope dealers who, in their ambition to achieve “white” wealth, look no further than slinging rock to their equally oppressed black neighbor? I think not.

HAVE WE GONE A-STRAY? One bone, a couple of chew toys, and your dog will be loyal and loving to the end.

Have We Gone A-Stray?

I have a baby girl named “Shay” and of course I think she is absolutely fabulous. She is smart, adorable, and lovable. She loves me unconditionally. Yes, I’m proud doggie mommy, and I’m not the only one. In our trips to the park, I’ve met other proud moms and dads. While our little ones are sniffing one another’s bums and romping in the pond, we watch from the sidelines. We discuss the best doggie daycares, schools, the healthiest dog food, the best bark parks, and of course potty training. Some parents are very competitive, spouting out “AKC this” and “breeding that,” but I’m not one of those “show dog” moms. (Those people are really out there.) I see them at the park having conversations with their dogs and wonder when did it become normal to treat a dog like a person? The next day, I set off for answers at the local college’s library, and after a couple of hours I had three phone numbers and some idea as to why people treat their pets like children.

First and foremost, I blame Saddam Hussein. I really don’t have “facts” to back this up but I figured since the government blames Saddam for a variety of problems, eh, why not tack on one more.

Our next stop on the blame game timeline would be a song some consider a classic, “Who Let the Dogs Out?” This song stirs up so many emotions: anger, sadness, worry, fear, and sympathy. Those artists were brave enough to really make a statement, and it got the American public thinking, “What would happen if my dog was let out?” The country went into panic mode and there was an alert system started. It was color coded with green, meaning your doggie was safe, to orange, meaning there is a pretty good chance your dog could be “let out.” Nonetheless, the public was cautious under any color. No one ever wanted to be haunted by the question, “Who let the dogs out?”

The American people were looking to be protected and informed, so they turned to the people they chose to be their leaders, celebrities. Once the celebrities announced they had a plan, we all sighed in relief. The celebrities told us in order to keep our pets safe, we have to keep them by our sides at all times; and as you and I both know, celebrities always practice what they preach. Everywhere you looked there were articles about how celebs keep their dogs near to them: in their purse, or on set, even at the salon. Their amazing stories of such generosity were so inspiring that the public took notice. Then, dogs were crowned the “newest must-have accessory” by USA Today, People, and InStyle.

It was then that we opened our homes to our favorite pets. Suddenly, our beds were being taken over, we were being woken up by licks to the face (and you don’t want to know where that tongue has been), the carpet was covered with chew toys, and we were losing control. This angered us, but we looked to our celebrity leaders and realized that maybe there was something behind our pets’ bad behavior. Our curiosity was peaked; we wanted to know what was going on inside the minds of our precious puppies. Enter the pet psychic, a woman I really consider a national hero. She shared our dogs’ thoughts with us, and finally we found out what our favorite family member thought of us . . . and the news wasn’t good. Our dogs hate us. This realization created a massive wave of guilt, like nothing ever seen before. Suddenly, there was a public outcry, “Give us something to buy so we can give it to our dogs and they will like us!” Petsmart and Petco answered our cries and finally we were able to buy the love of our dogs.

It didn’t take us long to figure out buying off our dogs was a lot cheaper and easier than buying off say . . . children. One bone, a couple of chew toys, and your dog would be loyal and loving to the end. There was never any back talk, or arguments, no need to worry. Your dog wouldn’t sneak out past curfew, or get a tattoo, or come home with a weird piercing. And if your dog happened to get knocked up, you could give all the puppies away with a clean conscience. It was clear raising a dog was a lot easier than raising a child, but people still had a desire to be moms and dads. It was then a compromise was born. Why not just raise our puppies like people?

And here we are. Shay started going to daycare, play dates, and bark parks. She dresses up for Halloween and has her picture taken with Santa Claus every year. Sometimes I am disgusted that I turned into one of “those” people, but on the bright side, I don’t have to pay for her to go to college . . . at least not yet!

Written by Jessica Mouser

Eating Disorders Among Women of Color

Warning: this article is going to be a bit more personal than I’ve been before. With that written, I’ll jump right in. Every time I relapse, I try to find something—or someone—to blame. Previous examples include the phrase “you’re not getting any smaller” and the occasional critical stare, which inevitably sent me into the kitchen––only to subsequently go into the bathroom. And so on, and so on ad infinitum. But the idea of a woman of color with an eating disorder always seemed an anathema to me. African American beauty always appeared to skirt the mainstream ideals when it came to weight. Hair quality and skin hue continue to fall victim, but weight was our “upper hand,” so to speak. And although we relax our hair to the point it falls out and occasionally avoid the sun to keep our skin lighter, we still enjoy our ribs and biscuits without remorse because we still appreciate the roundness of our rumps and the fullness of our thighs.

So how did we get here, to a time when there are numerous Web sites devoted to the understanding and prevention of eating disorders among women of color? It’s too easy to say that the prevailing standards finally caused the collapse of a culture that still celebrated the fuller figure. Perhaps it was the trade, or sacrifice, of ethnic women who, as they attained a more mainstream (read: Euro-centric) education and attitude, so attained a different sense of what is or isn’t beautiful. For, according to many eating disorder studies, women of color who suffer from EDs are less likely to live in impoverished neighborhoods and more likely to be college students/graduates. I picture the prolific stereotype of the large black woman, speaking Ebonics and clearly possessing enough self-confidence in her appearance that she feels comfortable wearing spandex shorts and skimpy T-shirts. For young women of color, that image is dichotomous: 1) she is sassy and secure; therefore, if they look and speak like her, she is an affirmation that they don’t have to strive to emulate the anorexic and bulimic models on billboards; but 2) she is also a subliminal reminder of how African American women are perceived, and to be like her is to admit that she is thehighest level of beauty and intelligence that we can ever reach. Sadly, the numbers are still too dubious to efficiently measure how many women of color suffer from EDs. Whether or not they are being counted, it’s possible to ascertain that the stigma within the black community still encourages resistance to European standards of beauty, and in turn assigns shame to the methods of attaining that standard. If we do it, we can’t talk about it, and therefore, the possibility of recognizing an ED as a problem never surfaces. If we don’t do it, we relegate ourselves to the inferior standard of the larger-than-life “Sheniqua.” So, in essence, we’re screwed.

Now, does this mean I’m arguing for the deliberate intellectual and financial stagnation (or regression) of African American women? Perhaps, perhaps not, if it can ensure the health of our young ladies who, in their effort to reach perfection according to accepted social standards, are interjecting their educational pursuit with sticking a finger in their throats. Ultimately, I’m advocating attention to how we in the community itself react to popular images when it comes to how the world sees us and how we see ourselves. What are we doing in our own community to offset the stereotypes we’re offered? Must we embrace one or the other, or can we somehow amalgamate the ideals to encompass the full-figured beauty we’ve always cherished while also encouraging academic aspirations minus physiological forfeiture? Hopefully you’re not holding out for a “here’s what we can do about it” paragraph, offering optimism to women who realize that in their pursuit of mainstream intellectual and social acceptance, they have suddenly found themselves “unintentionally” missing a meal or kneeling over a toilet bowl. Nor will I apologize for what may seem a self-aggrandizing attempt at altruism by inserting my own experiences into the editorial. Rather, I hope that for African Americans this column will at best offer insight into a problem that is not Caucasian-exclusive, and open their eyes to the sacrifices our sisters make in trying to distance themselves from the “Sheniqua” archetype. And for those women of color who do put themselves through such horrific self-torture, let this column allow you to separate the unwelcome habit that can sometimes come with striving for perfection in a Euro-centric society so that your compromise doesn’t kill you.