My best friend just sent me this email:

Chino, I found this on a ‘dating advice’ site. I thought you may enjoy it (and despise it) as much as I did.


General Dating Rules:

Always look great, whatever your income. Gorgeous hair and some lipstick with rags will still turn his head. You have the advantage. You are the woman. Look your best as you could meet a potential Mr. Right anywhere at any time.
Never reveal information you don’t have to. An enigmatic woman drives men wild.
Keep dates brief, but your men interested. Less is always more.
Try and stay in shape and involve some fitness regime at a gym. However much you hate it, your Mr. Right loves your body as much as your mind.
Let your man pay. If he is interested, he is interested enough to ensure you eat well and get home safely in a cab.
Ensure you receive flowers. If he doesn’t know what a florist is, dump him.
Never ever sleep with a guy until he has fallen for you. Sex early in your dating game plan will ruin everything.
Always keep a guy waiting and never turn up early. It is a lady’s prerogative.
Never be available when he wants you to be. Never be at the end of a phone when he calls and always let him leave a message or two first before replying.
If he is available Tuesday, you are available Thursday.
Weekend shopping trips with girlfriends are sacred and not available for dates.
Keep your man standing on quicksand by shifting landmarks and goalposts constantly.
Ensure you are a good kisser. Men will walk away if you cannot kiss. Practice on a mirror if you have to.
Never ever talk about previous boyfriends, particularly their prowess in the bedroom. Your ex-boyfriends are your business only.
Never assume anything about your date until you choose to know him better. You cannot always tell by looking.
If any man shows the slightest signs of possessiveness or insecurity, run like the wind. Life is too short for boys.
If his shoes or hygiene are a disgrace, dump him.
Never talk too much about your father and how your date measures up in comparison.
Never ever come across as too available or too desperate. He will run a mile. He is the one doing the chasing.
If the guy in the corner is gorgeous, go get him and create the need in him for you. Never wait for men to come to you because you may watch him leave with someone else.
You may well have all the bodily functions of a man, just try not to demonstrate them early on.
If you want a child, don’t mention it on the first few dates.
Never ever criticize his mother unless you want to remain single.

ed-hope:

Think of these steps as a dance rather than a linear progression. Move from one to another and back again as fits your own personal style and journey. 

1. Stop weighing yourself.  Shift your focus from weight & body fat to healthy behaviors and fitness. 
2. Live now, not in the past or future. Live your life as if you were at your desired weight—including wearing beautiful, comfortable clothing in your present size. 
3. Eat well & mindfully. Enjoy your food. Let nothing be off-limits—there are no forbidden foods.
4. Listen to your body and give yourself and your body what you need to thrive: balanced nutrition, adequate sleep, regular exercise.
5. Love & accept yourself as you are, & others as they are. Refuse to engage in fat prejudice toward yourself or others.
6. Feed your soul with meaningful and enjoyable recreation, relationships, work, & spirituality. Clear out toxic environments/relationships/behavior patterns. Build a nourishing community: surrounding yourself with size-friendly people (friends, therapists, doctors) & images of happy, successful people of all sizes.
7. Connect mind & body. Increase body awareness through yoga, walking meditation, tai chi, qi gong, massage, & bodywork, movement therapy (such as Feldenkrais). Focus on what your body can do and how good it can feel. 
8. Decrease self-criticism & body judgment, increase positive, supportive self-talk. Talk to yourself & your body the way you would a cherished friend or loved one.
9. Address any emotional eating or body image issues independent of weight change. Attitudes & opinions are easier (& healthier) to change than body size.
10. Invest time & money in yourself rather than the diet industry.

somuchnottoomuch: hyperopiacheart: nowfigureativelyspeaking:
“Mom, I’m Fat:” One Mother’s Inspired Response to Her 7 Year Old

by Janell Hofmann

I am sitting, cross legged, on the bathroom floor trimming my five year old daughters’ toenails.  My nine year old son showers his muddy body as I lean against the tub.  My three year old daughter wrestles herself into pajamas in her bedroom.  My eleven year old son bursts in from football practice and hollers upstairs about reheating leftovers and having a sore throat.  My husband is out dropping our minivan off for a tune up.  The sun has set and we’re putting another day to rest.  In the confusion of this typical weeknight, I glance up from the floor at my seven year old daughter, standing on the step stool, completely undressed, brushing her teeth.  I don’t like the way she is looking at herself in the mirror.  I don’t like the way she pokes at her belly and frowns at her profile.  I watch her for another minute and step in.

“What’s up, girl?”  I ask.  “I’m fat.”  she responds without hesitation.  I’m instantly weak.  She continues, “My stomach jiggles when I run.  I want to be skinny.  I want my stomach to go flat down.”  I am silent.  I have read the books, the blogs, the research.  I have aced gender studies, mass media, society and culture courses in college.  I have given advice to other mothers.  I run workshops and programming for middle school girls.  I have traveled across the world to empower women and children in poverty.  I am over qualified to handle this comment.  But in reality, my heart just breaks instead.  I am mush.  Not my girl.

I rally some composure and stay cool.  “You are built just perfect – strong and healthy.”  And she is.  But this doesn’t soothe.

I flounder.  This child – my first and wildly celebrated daughter – was breastfed girl power.    I read picture books with only central female characters, I insisted she wrestle her big brothers, demanded family call her words like smart and brave as much as cute and adorable.  I tell her we are all different – straight and thin to round and plump and millions of ways in between.  I tell her it’s what makes us all beautiful.  Unconvinced.

I send all the other kids away.  I shut the door and we sit face to face on the floor.  There is more here and I need to see it through.  I tell her I looked just like her when I was seven.  I tell her she will grow to be tall and strong and fierce, like me.  Not good enough.  I reach and scramble.  I tell her how fast she runs.  Remind her of the goal she scored in soccer.  What an expert she is on her bike and the amazing balance and tricks she does on her scooter.  I remind her of her high level reading, her artwork, her mastery of math facts.  “Fat.”

I grow desperate.  “Child!  What is the first thing everyone tells you when they meet you?”  She sighs, “I’m beautiful.”  Beauty is not helping me here.  I’m failing.  Pleading, I ask her why.  Her blues eyes meet mine.  She tells me on two different occasions friends have called her “kind of fat” when they were talking about bodies this summer in their bathing suits.  And she felt sad.  But she also felt good because finally she confirmed that what she thought about her body was “mostly true”.

I think a few bad thoughts about her peers and their mothers and wonder what messages are being sent.  I am out of tools.  And now twenty minutes later, I’m out of patience too.  I feel powerless to what seems certain to her.  And I cannot understand how she does not see all of life’s perfection in her reflection.

I stand her up on the step stool in front of the mirror.  I strip off my yoga pants, my tee shirt, my bra and underwear.  We are side by side completely naked together.  She laughs.  I start singing a song that I’m making up as I go.  It’s rap meets Raffi with lyrics like “We are perfect, just the way we are.”  It’s wild and silly, but I cannot be stopped.  We’re shaking everything, and she’s belly laughing and totally thrilled.  I pick her up.  We are a ridiculous and magnificent pair.  The other kids hear the commotion and barge in.  They are confused and horrified.  I carry her to the bedroom raving about all the ways we are powerful and naked and women.  We settle into comfy pajamas and read a story together.  Fat is not mentioned again.

On this night, I have no idea if I have succeeded.  I’m not sure if what I said and did had an impact, if I fixed anything, or even if I changed her mind.  But I do know that I must continue to infuse myself and my children with bold confidence.  I must check in, ask questions, take the time.  I must build and undo.  I must be open and genuine.  I must but willing to dance naked in the mirror, resist the urge to see all the ways five babies have changed me, and stare straight into my reflection with love.  Then together, with a twinkle in our eyes, we only see radiance shining back.

sociolab:

From askmen.com

Top 49 Most Influential Men of 2011

Top 99 Most Desirable Women of 2011

Top 10 Least Desirable Women of 2011

Remember ladies, men can be influential, but what really matters is how desirable you are.  For similar lists, just do a google search for women of 2011.

amoralfictionalism:

Aura’s family was dirt poor; she was born in a one room shack. The only toy she ever owned, was really a spare block of wood — that eventually had to be burned, when the family was cold. She was the middle child, from a family of ten… which meant that her parents worried more about her older and younger siblings. Aura was often the one, who had to go the most, without.

Her father was a mean drunk, who spent most of his time chasing women… but he never left them. He was proud of his sons, and praised his daughters for their beauty… except for Aura.

Her mother was a spit-fire. Unable to keep her husband in line, she took her aggression out on her children… but she worked her hands to the bone, to keep them fed. She coddled her sons, and spoiled her daughters… except for Aura. 

Despite only being a child herself, she was expected to serve her elder siblings, and take care of her younger ones. When she failed at her duties, she was serverely disciplined. Her father cracked her skull open twice — once by pushing her down a flight of stairs. 

Love became defined by the number of resources allotted for survival. So, at an early age, Aura decided that she would do whatever was required, to never have to go without; that somehow this would guarantee her happiness. She wasn’t the smartest girl, but she was ambitious and resourceful. She worked herself ragged, and was able to afford all of the luxuries, that she had wanted as a child. But she never attained what she really needed…

I don’t know if Aura’s father ever told her that he loved her before he died. 

When Aura’s mother was dying of cervical cancer, the old woman finally admitted that she had never cared for her daughter. There was something strange about Aura, that her mother had found unsettling. Aura was told that she thought too much like a man; no woman should have been so ambitious. Aura was different, and that scared her mother. 

It was not until Aura was the only on of her siblings, who could afford to pay for her mother’s medical bills, that her mother finally appreciated her. To my knowledge, the first and only time Aura’s mother said “I love you” to her, was right before the sick woman died. 

Many years later, when Aura was on her own deathbed, despite how many times her own child had told her throughout the years… to my knowledge, the first and only time she actually believed when her daughter said, “I love you” — was right before Aura died. 

Aura was my mother. She was an abused and neglected middle child. She was sandwiched between the two most important females in her life; her mother and her daughter… neither of which could offer her the degree of affection that she so desperately needed. 

She had pushed so hard, in life, to get to the front of the line — but when she got there financially, in the end — she realized that emotionally, she still remained stranded in the middle.

There are some nights that I cry for her… like tonight. All I want for Christmas, all I have ever really wanted for the past five years — is to bring her back from the dead, and give her a second chance at life. 

The best that I can do, is to ask: If you know a child, or a girl like her, please tell them that they are beautiful, treasured, and valuable They look so tough on the outside, but inside, they are just lost little girls… waiting to know that they are truly loved.