My smile and my new pants

On Friday night Angela and I went to Culver City to see the play SCHOOL GIRLS, OR THE AFRICAN MEAN GIRLS. It was in a theater we've never been in but have driven by at least a thousand times. (Seriously, it's across the street from our dentist and if you know us, you know we go to the dentist a lot...)

When we first entered the theater we were greeted by a woman who asked us if we'd like to write on the mirror. In lipstick.

Um, yes!

I've never written on a mirror in lipstick like I'm the scorned heroine of a fancy story! But there was a catch -- we had to write what makes us beautiful.

So Angela and I both took a lipstick and we moved to opposite sides of the mirror and we thought and we wrote.

I wrote, "My smile."

Angela wrote, "My smile."

I love that. I love that we both see our happiness, or our trying to be happy, as beautiful. Smiles do as much for me as they do for others. They help me to remember that life is mostly good. That life is happy. That I want to be happy. That life is beautiful. That I am beautiful.

But as we walked around the lobby of the theater we were inundated with information that would be touched on in the play's subject matter -- the ideas of bullying, of racism, of colorism, of beauty pageants, and the messages we are sending to our world's girls, boys, men, and women.

SCHOOL GIRLS is about high schoolers who are vying to be Ms. Ghana and eventually Ms. World Universe. It's set in the 1980s and it's fascinating to realize not so much has changed since then -- since before I was in high school.

How we are still fighting these ideas that being different is bad. That you must be white, or at least very light, that you must be thin, that you must have a handsome or well-off boyfriend, that you must fit into this norm someone came up with long ago, to be considered popular or beautiful.

I don't know many women who haven't struggled with these things at some point in their lives. I have been on some form of a diet since I can remember. Literally. (I'm talking middle school or possibly before.) And it's exhausting. It's exhausting to count points, to calculate calories, to do sit-ups, to buy the merchandise and the books, to look in the mirror and not see the results. Or worse, to see the results. Because sometimes, succeeding feels even worse.

I lost eighty pounds after grad school. It was a lot. I felt amazing. I ran down hills and around blocks and didn't feel out of breath. But I also devoted so much time to Weight Watchers and exercise that I had to sacrifice other things. I know this is true because I lived it. And it was my choice. And I was happy with it.

But slowly the weight crept back. How do I know? Because I kept track in my journal. I wrote down every pound that I lost or gained. Oh that's sad, you might think. True. But it's also reality. It's reality for SO MANY WOMEN. And probably so many men. It was reality that life changed, I got a new job, a different schedule, and I had to sacrifice something else this time.

I never thought I was beautiful though, not out loud. I'm sure others told me I was. I'm sure I heard it and maybe even thought it. But what stuck with me most was a comment made to my father, by a friend of his. He wondered if I was sick. Like really sick. Because I looked so thin, too thin.

Even eighty pounds lighter (and still a size sixteen, mind you), I wasn't right. I wasn't beautiful. I still looked wrong.

And at forty years old, I'm at a loss. I love walking. And I do a lot of it. Some days over my 10,000 step goal. I'm happy if I get 30 active minutes. But I hate the treadmill. I hate the idea of going to the gym and doing some reps on some machines and not knowing if it's worth it or not. I'm very goal-oriented, if you didn't notice. But I love that I am strong, and I want to stay that way. I love that I can hit a golf ball two hundred yards and that is mostly in part to my very large arms. But most days I do not love those very large arms.

And yet, I quit Weight Watchers, again, last week. I hadn't been on plan for months. Even though every time I put something in my mouth I think of the point value. After more than sixteen years on WW, I can't help but continue with those point value thoughts.

And right after I quit WW, I bought pants, new pants. Pants that fit. Pants that are one size up from some of my pants from several years ago. Because those old pants, while perfectly fine and cute and acceptable, are TIGHT. VERY TIGHT. They look fine but I feel so uncomfortable in them I can't focus on anything else. So I practiced some radical self-care and I bought new pants. And I love them.

Do they make me feel beautiful though? Like my smile?

Yes. They do.

Also? They make me not think about pants. Or my weight. Or being beautiful on the outside for a while. Because I've got so much other shit to do.

I've got movies and television shows to write. I've got a web series to promote. I've got people to feed and a God to worship and books to read. I've got Christmas presents to craft and an InstaPot to figure out and a couch to lie on in front of a television. I've got miles to walk while listening to my audiobooks and beloved podcasts. I've got puzzles to put together and money to raise for robot shirts. I don't have time to think about my pants.

I'm not giving up though. I have to make that clear, to myself, every day. I still choose the things that are good for me. And when I don't, I try not to beat myself up. I eat popsicles instead of cartons of ice cream. I decline the candy I tolerate but don't love. I take the stairs even though I end up winded at the top. I get up early to walk even though I'd rather a few more minutes under the quilt. I eat boneless, skinless chicken for almost every meal. I can't help it. Even if it won't change how I look drastically, I still hold out hope...

Because I want to be beautiful. The way beautiful matters to me. I want to be beautiful through my smile, under my smile, because of my smile.

I want the beauty that I want for girls and women all over the world. I want to feel strong and capable and smart and successful and most of all -- beautiful.

What makes me beautiful?

My smile.

And my new pants.

We Are Celebrating!

It's almost fall. It doesn't feel like it in Los Angeles (or in Howell either, as I look at the weather report and see photos of my parents in shorts). But alas, it's mid-September and summer has been over for Angela and I for months. We spent six weeks in Howell, and they were wonderful. We swam three times a week with my parents and their friends. We ate and drank and laughed on the patio for hours on end. We saw family and friends and caught up with everyone we miss while we're on the other side of the country. We put together jigsaw puzzles and played cards and watched baseball and played Giant Jenga. We went through old photos, we cleaned out closets, we walked and we napped and we shared milestones.

And we also celebrated.

We celebrated that the web series I wrote, and that we filmed last year, won not one but two awards at the Oniros Film Awards. The Couch won for best web series and for best screenplay. And I was beyond stunned. I was so excited just to hear that we'd been nominated! What a surprise! Honestly. I've spent over ten years applying to writing contests. Submitting for fellowships. Sending in script after script, check after check, keeping a list, crossing out those contests when I find out I've lost. It's not a big deal. Rejection is par for the course in Hollywood. I know this. I expect this. So when I found out we'd won...

Well, that was something.

We had to submit three finished episodes of our series to be considered (we'll have seven episodes total) and the complete script. They liked what they saw, and read, and so, we won. Really, quite unexpected. This is not the norm.

But it is amazing. It's amazing because the words that I wrote, several years ago now, the stories I created, are being shared. Not just between Angela and myself. Not just between my best writer friends and myself. Not just between the cast and crew of The Couch and myself. But the stories I created are going out into the world. Literally. The Oniros Film Awards are in Italy!

Also, I love that while my words are being heard and my stories are being told, our entire Couch Team is being recognized because without them, my stories are just files on my MacBook, maybe pages I print out to run my hand across. And in particular that another female is being recognized for being behind the camera.

In August, right after we got back from Michigan, we headed off to church to hear Mark Stephenson preach on the film Wonder Woman. (Yep, if you go to Hollywood UMC you get sermons about movies all summer long!) And during his sermon he mentioned some statistics I'd recently highlighted on social media -- that of the top 100 movies in 2017, only 7.3% were directed by women. That's it, 7.3%. So I am super proud of The Couch for adding to the percentage of film and television being directed by women!

Also, it was so sweet of Mark to shout me out during the sermon. He mentioned my awards and The Couch and I love how supportive the Hollywood UMC community has been and continues to be of me and all females in this business.

So we won a couple of awards -- that's great! Everyone was so happy for us! BUT...they wanted to know when the series would premiere.

Well, last week we made a big announcement! We invited the world to the premiere of The Couch! On October 25th! We are so excited!

We're going to have a big, dress up affair! We're going to have a red carpet! We're going to have a screening! We're going to have live music! We're going to have a Q & A afterwards!

My parents are coming into town for the event! My friends, even those of them who go to bed super early because they kick butt at super early morning jobs, are going to come! I've already tried on my dress! I am EXCITED!

Because something I made is going to be shared. Again.

See this isn't the first time I've shown the world The Couch. Well, technically I've shown it to my world. In July, I got my hands on some almost finished drafts of the seven episodes and was able to show them to my parents and Angela. I was so excited. And so nervous. Because that was the premiere I'd been waiting for forever. These three people - Angela, Chris, and Tom, have made this possible. Without their love and support (SUPPORT, again, for the people in the back! THIS DID NOT HAPPEN WITHOUT ALL OF THEM) The Couch doesn't happen. These people, my people, my world, encouraged me. They saw that this was the most important thing I could do professionally with my life and they let me do it. They made me do it. They didn't let me have any excuses. They made the space in this world for an artist, a writer, to write. And that's a VERY RARE gift. I know that. We all know that. And I am so grateful for that gift. (P.S. - They loved it. They are biased but they still told me they loved it. They said it looked like a TV show (yay!). They wanted to know what happens next! I said well we'll have to see if season 2 is a go...)

But now we are ready for everyone to see our show! If you're in Los Angeles, RSVP, put on your best frock, and come on over! If you're elsewhere in the world? Well, don't worry -- you're going to see it in October too! Please watch. Please share. Please enjoy. Because we made this for you. We made this to share women's stories. And we made this to entertain.

#awomanwrotethat
#awomandirectedthat