I have a "fat" personality.

So I’m feeling pretty good since my last “Richard Simmons” post and hoping that as I begin to see friends and family for wedding related activities, they’ll notice my svelte new figure.

However, I’m reminded that people always remember me as “fat” so no matter how much weight I lose, I’ll always look thinner to those who don’t see me often. And when I say “those who don’t see me often” I’m not referring to my great aunt in Arizona who last saw me when I was 12 and definitely an unfortunately chubby pre-teen. I’m talking about those friends that you maybe don’t see for a month at a time… hardly a time lapse and hardly enough time to lose or gain so much weight that’s its immediately noticeable unless you greet your friends naked every time you see them.

So I’m convinced that I have a “fat personality.” And when I say “fat” I’m not referring to the 900 pound man who regularly gets featured on TLC specials. In this case, “fat” simply refers to any size larger than I actually am.

This whole phenomenon started with I returned from freshman year of college for Thanksgiving break. First, I’m shocked that I did NOT gain weight that first year of college… I sat on my butt almost all day eating Teddy Grahams and watching daytime TV. Neither my brain nor my body got much exercise that year.

Anywho, when I saw my old high school buddies for the first time in a few months everyone commented on how “great” I looked and that I must have lost weight. Knowing that I truly didn’t lose a pound, I figured I must have looked so good because so many other people looked so bad. Apparently Teddy Grahams and daytime TV took a toll on some.

But then I would come back to college after a week long break and my college mates would comment that I looked thinner. Hmmm… these are the same people I practically drank ranch dressing with on daily basis, so they were far more familiar with my size and body, but without fail, they said I looked “better” when I came back from long breaks.

This cycle continued all four years of my college experience and it follows me to this day. If someone doesn’t see me for a few weeks, I guess I shouldn’t question why they say I look thinner because what girl doesn’t like to be told she looks slim?! I’ll take what I can get.

But flattery aside, this is truly a confusing phenomenon. Then I finally figured it out – I have a “fat personality.” I’m constantly smiling, joking and laughing… I’m jovial, if you will. Santa is also jovial. The Pillsbury Dough Boy also tends to giggle a lot. Ironic? I think not.

I think I just happen to possess certain traits that leave a “hefty” memory of me in peoples’ minds. There is no other explanation. And if I had to choose what size people remember me being, I guess I’d go with a chubbier version of myself because I equate a few extra pounds to the robustness of my personality. People don’t want to mess with the strength of a full bodied woman that they remember me being even when they are reminded later in-person that I’m actually a half-full bodied woman.

So as I prepare to meet and greet people for all my upcoming wedding shenanigans, I guess I’ll have to be prepared to accept my “fat personality” and instead of saying, “no, I haven’t really lost any weight” in response to the “you look thinner” remark, I’m going to say, “why yes, I’ve been training with Romanian body builders and climbing mountains in my spare time – thanks for noticing.”

At the end of the day, it is all about how you act, not how you look. I’m going to strive to keep putting quality pounds onto my personality and embrace my larger self because that version of me is who people love to remember and who they love to see regardless of what the scale says.

What size does your personality leave on someone’s mind?

I'm Like a Bridal Version of Richard Simmons

Need to go on a diet? Get engaged.

If one word could describe the concept of marriage it would be “weight.” Once a man proposes, he is warned about his impending “ball and chain” of a wife. His social life will now be weighed down by trips to Home Depot and Bed, Bath & Beyond. Another single man sinks to the bottom of the domestic sea.

An engagement ring is also an example of the weight of marriage – a diamond is referred to as a “rock.” The bigger and heavier the rock, the happier and more envied the bride.

I was looking at wedding invitations the other day and was asked what kind of paper weight I wanted. The heavier the paper, the heavier the price tag. I didn’t even know the terms “heavy” and “paper” could be used in the same sentence.

And then there are the bodies of the bride and groom. I had heard before I got engaged that weight just “melts” off a bride when they are feverishly planning a wedding, and then ironically enough, the weight packs itself back on after commitments have been made securely and you’re back into your usual, comfortable routine.

Weight. It is lurking around every corner as I plan my own wedding, but I was certain when I got engaged it would have nothing to do with my body.

First let me say that I’m a pretty solid girl… not heavy, solid. In fact, if I visit a doctor’s office, I leave the nurses confused wondering how I could look fairly thin, but then weigh like I'm holding my purse on the scale with me… a purse filled with dumbbells.

Keeping with the wedding theme of this post, I like to describe my appearance in correlation with my actual weight through a wedding band metaphor. You see two silver rings – one is white gold and one is platinum. They LOOK exactly the same. They are the same size and width, but then when you hold them, the platinum band is considerably heavier… in this example quality weighs more, so I like to think that I carry around at least 10 extra pounds of pure QUALITY.

And my size rarely changes no matter how much I exercise or eat. I still wear some of my clothes from high school for God’s sake. Now don’t get me wrong, since high school, a lot more bumps and lumps have shown up, but nothing that I can’t tuck away easily and give the illusion of stunted fat growth.

So you get the point - I’ve been a solid, unchanging girl for the past 24 years of my life. Until recently. In the midst of fretting over the weight of paper paired with the weight of some other oh-so-fun stresses associated with wedding plans, I managed to knock off six pounds. Most of you probably turn up your nose at single digit weight loss, but for this hunk of meat, that means a lot.

It seems that as I weigh out the pros and cons of various wedding decisions, I’ve managed to go from a Big Mac to a Quarter Pounder (with cheese… if I lose another a couple pounds I’ll knock off the dairy.)

Food metaphors aside (its 4:30 pm, I’m due for a snack), I think I can personally now vouch that if nothing else, engagement definitely forces you to gain and lose weight both figuratively and literally … you take on new projects, new families and new responsibilities which are like those weights that you strap to your ankles for an intense workout. Then you’re forced to pick up the pace and not only move through the chaos of your every day routine, but also work on pulling together the single most important day of your life. And during all of this, you don’t have time for that midday munchie you’re so used to.

I'm going to embrace this heavy time and enjoy every moment of it, even if I don't lose another literal pound. Like a bridal version of Richard Simmons, I’m going to move forward upbeat and sweatin’ to the songs of marriage...

Happy Birthday, Happy Daughter

It is my dad’s birthday this weekend. We’ll be celebrating his 45th… again. Actually, my dad isn’t the kind of person to hide his age, although I’m pretty sure he’d have to think long and hard how old he actually is.

So here we are again, another year, another birthday, same wonderful dad. As my dad adds another candle to the cake of life, I can’t help but to think about how much he has contributed to my own life and I would like to take this moment to salute all the fathers out there that have dedicated themselves to be the best fathers they can be to their daughters.

First, allow me to insert some academia… I believe it’s a studied fact that fathers greatly impact how their daughters look at men and handle relationships. Okay, so I can’t site a research book or social scientist, but you know what I’m talking about. Everyone is familiar with the well accepted concept that women tend to marry someone like their father, so as a female, if your father is dog kickin’, no carin’ kind of guy, you can pretty much bet your money that your future hubs is bound to have some similar traits. If nothing else, chances are you won’t have any money to bet in the future because your deadbeat husband took it all on spent it on beer and the “Happy Days” DVD collection.

So that’s an extreme instance and probably not very fair.

Let’s take the example of the uninvolved, but super successful father. And before I go any further let me say this – for a father to be successful professionally it does not automatically mean he has to be uninvolved in his child’s life. And if a man is only capable of putting all his attention toward his million dollar paying job, then I wouldn’t consider him successful in the first place. Anyway, many dads in today’s world are the kind of dad who just brings home the paycheck and leaves the childrearing to the wife. The sad part of it all is that the dad thinks he’s providing for his family, but little does he know what a disservice he’s doing to the emotional health of whatever daughters he may have.

If a dad doesn’t make a conscience effort to pay a part in his daughter’s life, you better believe that daughter will grow up and misconstrue abusive behaviors from potential mates as “love.”

It’s true. If a young woman doesn’t get love and respect from the first man in her life, how will she be able to recognize it from the other ones? Standards are set at home, and that is why so many women “become like their mother” and marry someone like their father – it is what’s comfortable and it is what us girls know. So a daughter’s relationship destiny is ultimately in the hands of her father and boy, am I glad I have the dad that I do.

My dad is by far the hardest worker I know and successful to boot. But no matter how busy he was, he always took time to be a part of my life. He treated all women with respect and from day one, that’s all I knew, so if I saw an angry, bullheaded, chauvinistic dad in public, I’d literally get scared. And I’m sure you can picture it now: a little Stephanie with big blue eyes and an even bigger head sees a burly man yelling at his wife in Toy R Us and runs to her mom not knowing what to think of the mean man wearing what I’m sure what a tacky flannel.

As I grew older, my dad really let my mom take the driver’s seat with me, after all, what sane father wants to navigate the roads of puberty with a teenage daughter?! But he was always there both literally and figuratively. If I wasn’t in my teenage angst mode, he’d be there to listen and laugh (if I WAS in that mode, he was still there to listen, but then would run away and take cover). He also came to every school play, to every game, every special event. I’ve learned to start being a good dad, you can simply start by just being “there.”

Since my dad raised the bar for all dads, he then in turn raised the bar for every guy I would come to date. Short story long, the man I’m going to marry is a hard worker, respects woman, gives in to my every wish, only really like to eat meant and potatoes and actually LIKES to clean. The first two qualities are obviously the most important and the other three are just ironic, but hey, I’ll take a man who moves well with a broom ANY DAY.

The one thing that IS debatable is if my soon-to-be hubby will ever love me AS MUCH as my dad. Don’t get me wrong, my fiancé ADORES me – I mean, I wouldn’t marry a man who didn’t love me with every fiber of his being, because that’s how much I adore him. But there is some kind love that my dad has for me that I don’t think I’ll ever truly understand and is something truly only a great father feels for his daughter.

Oh man. I’m getting all teary over here.

Let’s wipe our eyes and get back to the whole point of this post… to pay homage to good dads, including mine. I guess you could say that it doesn’t take much to be a good dad because I feel like it simply takes some good old fashioned quality time, but for some men, time is money and spending a little time with a daughter isn’t worth the catch up they might have to do later. I do know that if “time is money” was MY dad’s philosophy, he’d be the poorest man in the world and I’d still be the happiest and most loved daughter.

Happy birthday, Dad!

My life is like a kabuki brush in a toilet.

So yesterday I’m standing at my bathroom vanity preparing myself for a day of errands. Let me first say that even casual Sunday errand running requires “preparation.” My mom always told me that it doesn’t take a lot of time to slap on some blush and mascara before heading out even for the most mundane of trips because you never know who you’re going to run into and you don’t want to be caught looking like death when you’re out in public, flaunting that you’re alive and well.

Anyway, I digress…

So here I am, digging through my makeup bag trying to find my kabuki brush. For those of you not well versed in makeup jargon, a “kabuki” is a fat little brush with only a little nub for a handle – nice for full coverage and high on the adorable makeup tool scale. So I’m digging and like a slippery fish fighting for its life, the brush goes flying out of my hand, across the bathroom and into the only water supply available… the toilet.

Two things went through my head – first, “I did flush the last time I was on that thing, right?” And second, “of course I flushed – go save your adorable kabuki before it goes kaput!”

I bravely grabbed the bobbing brush and ran in circles panicking over the fact that a brush that is consistently rubbed all over my face, just took a dip in a pool that consistently has a view of my butt. After the minor meltdown, I’m reminded that toilet water is very much like a dog’s mouth, probably the most sanitary place in the joint, so I calmly wash it down with cleanser and leave it out to dry – crisis averted. Plus, it needed a good scrub anyway; the brush still had remnants of my darker glow from last summer, so it was time for a refreshing overhaul.

(And if you know me, spare me the humor, and please don’t ask me if that’s “toilet glow” on my face the next time you see me. Just watch, toilet water may be the next fountain of youth and people will be dunking kabuki brushes in toilets across the country.)

Why do I tell you this story? For giggles? Perhaps. But more importantly, this little incident comes with a life lesson…

I’ve had a tough past couple of weeks – just the typical growing pains of a young adult mixed with the stresses of wedding planning. I like to think of myself as the cute little kabuki brush; always giving full coverage to friends and family and ensuring that every issue is taken care of. But every now and again, I get thrown in the toilet – sometimes intentionally, sometimes by accident.

Either way, we’ve all felt at some point in our lives like things were going down the proverbial “toilet.” It stinks. No pun intended. Okay, okay, pun intended.

But here is what you have to keep in mind – toilet water is pretty sanitary and all you need is a quick cleanse to bring you back to life… in fact, a swim in the toilet may force you to rinse off some of your past so you can start embarking on a sparkling future.

If I hadn’t dropped my kabuki in the toilet, it would still have remnants of old powder, germs and other pore clogging wee-beasties. After this bathroom incident, although traumatizing for a moment, my brush is now cleaner than ever and I’m sure my zit-free skin will thank me.

So my life lesson for today, although inspired by a makeup brush and toilet, is something to take to heart:

Know that sometimes it takes a stressful, "thrown in the toilet" situation to really cleanse you and bring you back to your original form, because you don’t realize how much dirt and grime you’ve picked up along the way.

Go forth. Be strong. And don't forget to flush.

Take Two Doses of "Good" Daily with Water.

Hello, readers. I’m not sure if you’re still out there. My apologies for the lack of blog posts, but my latest career move and my upcoming wedding has forced me to put my mindless ramblings on hold.

Since I last posted, you’ll be happy to know that I haven’t mailed anything that shouldn’t find its way through the US postal service and I now think twice before opening any mail slot. Ah, life’s important lessons.

Onto a new post! But before we proceed, allow me to warn you that its not going to be all giggles…

Over the past few months I’ve come to the realization that some times no matter how hard you try to make someone happy, it will never be enough. The combination of selfishness and insecurity is lethal and if you cross a person who holds this toxic brew, you’re dead… or at least that’s what I initially thought, but I’m slowly coming back to life.

The interesting part of dealing with someone who does not have your best interests in mind is that to remedy the ailments they bring, you need a dose of good. Plain, old fashioned GOODNESS.

Now “good” comes in many forms. For those less serious run-ins with selfishness and insecurity, “good” could be a soothing can of Diet Coke. It can be slow drive down a peaceful street. Heck, it could be a manager from Chipotle calling you to inform you that your business card was plucked from their fishbowl and you won 10 free burritos (take it from this TWO time winner).

But in serious situations, the Big Kahuna issues, goodness is in the form of a person, a supportive person. (And no, the Chipotle manager, god bless his soul, is not the kind of supportive person I’m talking about although my veggie fajita burrito never lets me down.)

After recently experiencing the effects of selfishness and insecurity, I was prescribed two healthy doses of “good” – I believe the technical name for the prescription was “mom and dad.”

Awww… makes you want to vomit a little, right? Daughter runs to parents for comfort. How typical. How nauseating.

Puke all you want, but as an adult, I turned to the two adults that are by far the most secure and selfless people I know. And yeah, they happen to be my parents. You do realize that it’s not required for parents to care about you, right?

I wasn’t even fully aware of the extent of my parents’ healing powers until I was faced with a situation that made me feel helpless and utterly confused. And it wasn’t the advice or the comfort they gave me that helped wrap my wounds, it was their underlying goodness that has made me remember that people do care about me and care about others in general. To be honest, I’m sick of talking about issues and trying to figure out solutions, so hearing my mom gush about my latest home renovation or having my dad give me a random, funny, flying high five, is that kind of goodness that heals someone’s heart when it’s in the process of breaking.

Another dose of goodness I received was an email that radiated excitement about my upcoming wedding. Even through her emails, my best friend has a way to type seemingly flat words that are read with so much enthusiasm. Her support, her goodness, came in the form of “enough about THEM, lets talk about YOU.” For a moment, my world lacked positive punctuation, and then she appeared in my inbox referring to something about my life with so much “!!!!!!”, that I couldn’t help but to get excited too. Pure goodness.

Everyone is either going through a hard time or knows that someone is going through a hard time. My advice for those who are going through something difficult is to find the “good” and seek the “goodness” in others. However, remember that goodness is not buried under insecurity or guilt, pure goodness, the “real good stuff” is right on the surface, you can’t miss it.

I would also ask for people to become someone’s “good” and give them the support they need in the form they need it. If you’re like my parents or like my best friend, you’re probably most likely giving someone the remedy they need without even knowing it.

So as I heal, I’ll continue to pop as much goodness as I can, and I encourage everyone to get their hands on a dose because you never know when you’ll catch someone else’s nasty case of selfishness and insecurity. Because remember, no matter how often you wash your hands, an irrational person is a viral problem that will always get you down.