Pie it Forward

The Naked Truth

Posted on April 22, 2011 by Marijean

When I posted some musings from a workout at the gym, my dear friend Brian left this comment, “At the gym, as in life, for every person you wish you could trade places with, there’s someone who wishes she could trade places with you. And that is beautiful.”

In my next life, I hope I come back as a child of Brian’s. Is that weird?

Brian’s thought has worked its way around in my mind, reminding me to chuck my self-consciousness to a certain degree and to appreciate what I’ve got (and not focus on what I am not).

At another trip to the gym, I changed in the locker room from my work day dress to workout wear and as usual, marveled at the women who stroll across the room topless, hang out in the sauna in the altogether and generally have an air of comfort about their unclothed selves.

I’m the person in the corner, hiking up the yoga pants under the dress, wrestling the bra from underneath the top and generally going through some pre-workout gyrations (worth a few calories, at least) in order to change without full exposure.

And I’ve been wondering about that . . . it’s not mere modesty, or shyness, exactly; it’s a self-conscious belief that because I don’t look like some kind of supermodel under here, and for some reason that offer to appear on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue seems never to arrive. . . that no one should have to be subjected to the sight of my pale white posterior in the event they inadvertently glance in my direction.

I’m probably not ever going to reach the comfort level of the lady I encountered in the dark in the sauna (it took a second for my eyes to adjust and then I was impressed at the amount of eighty-year old naked flesh accompanying me in there). Nor do I ever see myself baring all for publication (Several women older than I have posed in Playboy, just FYI in case you’re into that).

On a scale of 1-10, 10 being all out exhibitionist, one being a cloistered nun, I am definitely near the lower end of the scale — say a 2 or maybe a 3. I mean, I don’t change in the bathroom at home (OK, I have, but there were reasons) so I’m not a total prude, but I’m just not a natural body flaunter. How do people get that way? Is that learned or inherited? Naked nurture vs. nature?

As I’m challenging myself to lose weight and become more physically fit, I’m adding on another dimension to the challenge; to get more comfortable in my own skin and (only when totally appropriate and no one is looking) to change in the locker room like it’s not 40 below and I run the risk of frostbite; like I don’t care if anyone’s looking, and certainly keeping in mind, that for every person I wish I could trade places with, there’s someone who wishes she could trade places with me.

Posted in Charlottesville, Getting Healthy | Tagged body consciousness, on being naked, self-image | 2 Comments

Giving Myself the Gift of a Year (Part Two)

Posted on April 19, 2011 by Marijean

I began 2010 by giving myself the gift of a year. It was a huge step, spurred on by my dear friend the Late Bloomer Bride and chronicled periodically on this blog. My gift to myself became a year of focus on taking care of me (something I’d sadly neglected) and realized was high time I did it. It wasn’t easy, it was a year of backsliding and reality checks, all of them culminating in a huge decision made and executed by the end of 2010.

Realizing that my job and travel had much to do with not taking care of myself, I jettisoned it and began Jaggers Communications at the beginning of 2011.

That decision, and every decision after it has been a continuation of that watershed year. Early this year I joined Weight Watchers for the first time in my life. I’ve joined a gym and have been working out like it’s a new religion.

There’s not this “end game” where there’s one specific goal or another I’ve got to reach. It’s a series of small steps and ideas that reveal themselves along the way. When I gave myself the gift of a year, it was intended to be a single year, but what I really did was give myself a life, and for that I will always be grateful.

I’m delighted when I hear from those of you who were inspired by the original post and the original year as it evolved. I’m giddy over the women I know who chose to take a year of their own. I hope that this post reaches someone else who will have an epiphany and decide, right here and now, to take it on (please tell me if that’s you!).

Posted in Year of 40 | Tagged giving myself the gift of a year, Year of 40 | 5 Comments

Workout

Posted on April 17, 2011 by Marijean

It happens, usually about ten laps in; I tear up and fight back a sobbing breakdown.

A deep breath and another lap and I’m OK again, counting, on this round, the number of bald men in the gym (seven).

I think, working through time on a bike, a treadmill, with weights and going ’round and ’round the track, that it all amounts to the longest walk of shame. I try not to think about the reasons I am here, that I’ve done this to myself and the payback that is the workout is just sweaty, painful penance and that someday, (soon, I hope) I will turn a corner and begin to feel stronger, thinner and somewhat more like the “me” of several years’ past.

I narrow my eyes and pretend not to clearly see the female weightlifter. How long did it take her to become that sculpted, that strong? On another pass her back is turned and I can take in an eyeful, from bulging shoulders to ropy calves. I briefly fantasize flopping, fangirl, at her feet, begging, “tell me how you did it.”

Of course I never would, never will.

Is it even possible to transform my soft, doughy self into anything that approximates the weightlifter? Is that what I want?

Another lap; what is this, my thirtieth? Overcome again, I seek familiar faces and transform those that aren’t into college friends, former co-workers and others who aren’t, couldn’t possibly be there, at the gym.

Posted in Charlottesville | 2 Comments

Browbeaten

Posted on April 10, 2011 by Marijean

The other night, I went dancing with some girlfriends. At one point, a new friend sitting at the table next to me leaned over and said,

“I have two questions: one, what perfume are you wearing and two, who does your eyebrows?”

I wasn’t wearing perfume and told her so, but do use a cocoa butter gel body oil that I love.

Second, about the eyebrows . . .

As a kid I suffered greatly, my eyebrows making me resemble Bert of Bert and Ernie fame, more than any other Muppet.

He meant well, I’m sure, but my dad would humiliatingly nudge me into performing my Groucho Marx routine, something he taught me at an early age (complete with cigar wagging!). It wasn’t till I was older that I thought, oh wonderful; I look like Groucho Marx. What little princess doesn’t want to look like Groucho Marx?

So since a rather tender age, I’ve been absolutely obsessed with perfectly maintained eyebrows and, at the age of 40, to be complimented about them gave me great joy. (The answer is my hairdresser waxes them and I obsessively, compulsively keep them as neat as possible until I see her again.)

Women, older than I, and who probably never spent tearful hours in the bathroom mirror trying to tame the arches over their eyes, tell me I should be glad; that they struggle to pencil in brows that used to exist. I suspect I’ll never have that issue, but if I ever do, I’ll just use that pic of Groucho to remember what used to be.

Posted in Charlottesville | 4 Comments

Double Cherry Pie; and no, that’s not a euphemism

Posted on April 10, 2011 by Marijean

In a rare fit of domesticity I baked a double cherry pie while making dinner the other night. I’d never made a double cherry pie before and in fact, was testing a new recipe. (Did you know that double cherry pie is a euphemism, a band and a song lyric as well as juicy deliciousness? Yeah, I thought you probably did.)

I served the pie still warm, with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, the way God intended. Mark thought the pie a bit too tart but I loved it; the double comes from using tart canned cherries and sweet dried cherries. I loved the contrast between the two kinds of cherries and the sugared, flaky crust perfectly offset the filling.

For the unfamiliar, that image at top, left is of a cherry pitter. I just bought one of these suckers (looks like an instrument of torture, doesn’t it?) and intend to make my first fresh cherry pie the minute they’re available (probably June).

I’m so committed to the idea of this project, I’m pondering whether it’s worth bribing the Michigan Jaggers family to ship me a crate of cherries. (Keri? Jeff? Hook a sister up!)

I have had several “favorite” pies in the past but the pie of the moment is definitely cherry.

Double Cherry Pie

Four cans tart cherries (Oregon is good), drained

One cup dried sweet cherries

3 tbsp cornstarch

1 cup sugar

1 tsp almond extract

Nutmeg

Tbsp butter, cut into pieces

Milk

Pastry for a double crust pie

Make your pastry, and refrigerate for at least an hour before rolling. Mix canned and dried cherries, sugar and cornstarch and let sit for 15 minutes. Add almond extract and stir gently. Roll out bottom crust and line a 9″ pie plate. Heat oven to 375. Spoon filling into the crust, top with scattered butter pieces and sprinkle with nutmeg. Roll out top crust; crimp edges to seal. Brush crust top with milk and sprinkle top with sugar. Cut four or five vents in the top.

Bake at 375 for 30 minutes, then turn pie 180 degrees and bake for another 30-35 minutes. You will want to place an edged cookie sheet, lined with foil, under the pie in case the filling bubbles over. If the top crust begins to get too brown, put a loosely tented piece of foil on top for the last 10 minutes of baking.