The Abandonment Chain

Some things have been weighing heavy in the last couple of months that have been making me rethink family relationships.

So, a few things not everyone knows about me:

1. I never knew my father. He left when I was less than two and my mother asked him to stay away - which he did. I had a few pictures and a sense of who the rest of my family thought he was.
2. I had a baby that I gave up for adoption when I was 18.
3. My mom died when I was almost 14, and I moved in with my sister.
4. I moved out of my sister's house at 17, and haven't had much connection with any family since then.

I never really had a strong familial bond. While my mom was alive, cousins and grandparents and sisters and stuff - they were the world around me. There was no question of love, and I'm not even sure if children know how to feel that emotion. There was a bond, but not love as I know it now.

After she died, the family fell apart like petals off a cut flower. One by one until there was just a brownish center sitting in dank water. It's only as a teenager that you start comprehending emotions - at least in my case. By the time I started feeling them, family wasn't around to receive them.

At eighteen, I gave birth to a girl. While I didn't really know why, I knew I couldn't raise a child. I thought about it in terms of money and education, but it was really an issue of mental stability. I had years of work to do on my brain before I'd be ready to have anything of worth to offer someone.

I never felt torture about my decision. I gave the baby to a couple I chose, knowing she'd have a good life and would maybe not end up as messed up as I was.

So, scroll ahead 16 years. Here I am, this woman of the world with a (now) sound head on her shoulders and what should happen but a friend of a 16 year old girl asks me what I think of adoption.

What happened was the baby - who is not a baby anymore - got curious about where she came from, found some papers, and found me on Facebook. I mean, really - it's not like I was hiding, and there are only so many Trudy Smocks in the world. One of her friends contacted me - probably at her bidding.

But it hit me like Slap Bet (honestly, How I Met Your Mother is a highly enjoyable show, regardless of the typical sitcom tropes). Wham. I handled it maturely and cut off communication because she's a minor and I don't want to intrude on their family. However, I've spent the intervening time internet stalking her.

I don't know how I feel. Connection, definitely. According to Pinterest, she and I have similar interest. I pore over her pictures. I read her Twitter and realize she's probably struggling with some of the emotional problems I went through. But love? Something. I feel something.

Frustration over being mature and not reaching out to her led me to the other link in this abandonment chain - my father.

Family legend paints my father as a monster. Maybe he was - but I was feeling like rowboat in the middle of the ocean. Even if he was a monster, maybe he could be my monster. Maybe he could give me a reference point of who I could be.

I found him - nothing is sacred on the internet. We're emailing back and forth. I'm mature and accepting - he's loving and regretful. I doubt his love because he doesn't know me, but who am I

He praised me, and it brought me to tears. I HATE that it affected me. It's like I'm that therapy poster child with daddy issues.

It makes me afraid to ever talk to the girl I gave birth to - how badly could I make her feel about not being as self-actualized as she thinks she is? Would she have irrational anger that I'm not more of an obvious mess?

Will she abandon any children she has? Is it in our blood?

It's not all bad. My father is actually pretty brilliant, has a Master's degree, seems concerned, proud, nervous - all of the right things. My guess is that he wasn't a monster, or no more than I've been.

Maybe some people have to be cut out of the skin they're born in by the, "...slings and arrows of outrageous fortune," before they can become the people they want to be. And maybe it's best if they don't drag children down with them.

I don't have answers, because whether you stay or go, you'll cause pain.

I normally don't write about this kind of stuff. Sharing something on the internet... I don't know - cheapens it? This time, I feel like I want some sort of record of it.

Also, maybe the right people will find this.

Sex, Hooch, and Boardwalk Empire

I just started watching Boardwalk Empire, so I know I'm super-late to the party when it comes to realizing the genius of this show.

So, this show has been lauded for being sexy and dirty and violent.

It's all of that. The men swear and kill and beat. They work real jobs where they use their hands instead of talking on the phone and appeasing customers.

The sex isn't some ethereal, romanticized period piece Cinemax smut. This is hipbone to hipbone awkward, sticky sex. It's sex that leaves a room smelling like mushrooms and fish.

This isn't the F. Scott Fitzgerald's '20s. This isn't the roaring '20s. This is the growling, pissing, rolling in death '20s. This is the era that makes you want to fuck when you haven't showered in a week and there's alcohol burning out of your pores.

We have this image of men (and women) in our history being harder, almost sociopathic when compared to today's standards. Fights, death, and survival were much closer at hand than they are in our modern lives. Slowly, then all at once, we gentrified.

We sanded off our rough spots with cable television, followed by internet, with even more internet after that, with a side of internet. We're introspective (without development, often) and avoid conflict. We've all learned the language of customer service, stand-up comedy, and social media. We're all experts at marketing, and almost no one knows how to butcher their own meat or build a house. Instead of doing something useful, we've convinced ourselves that the only jobs worth doing are the ones that let us sit on our buts.

I don't pine for a simpler time. I want my times complicated, messy. I do pine for a time when people lived in their bodies instead of their heads. I pine for doing instead of thinking or talking.


Is this the evolution of our species?

What to Wear to an Interview When You're Fat

So, inspired from this XOJane article, I decided to do a how-to of interview do's and don'ts for the plus-sized corporate maven.

 

I spent most of my adult life working for large corporations, and mostly rebelling against the standard uniforms. It took years of not being taken seriously and turn-downs for positions to finally get me to give in and play the game. Granted, I'm retired from it at the moment, but that doesn't mean I didn't become an expert toward the end.

 

The biggest obstacle for corporate wear - especially interviewing - is how big I am. The typical fashion advice didn't work for me. I had a hard enough time finding clothes - let alone tailored clothes! - that would actually fit me. Tuck my shirt in? There's no way I'm going to look like a lollipop for your amusement!

 

Once I started getting the hang of dressing myself and mastering the politics, I was given the task of managing a development program for our employees. 

 

One of the classes in that program was about interviewing. We had an amazing expert-interviewer come in to demystify the interview process as well as discussing what to wear.

 

The speaker had great standard advice - keep it simple, tailored, blah blah blah - but once again, the world seemed to be oblivious to the fact that fat people can't just follow the simple rules that the thin-privileged put in place.

 

Multiple times, I had larger women coming to me after these classes asking for advice on what they could, "Get away with," wearing for their interviews (don't get me started on why we have to get away with clothing our bodies!).

 

Fat women already have a harder time landing a position. Time, as well as many other sources, have studied the effect of obesity on employment. The thin have a number of automatic assumptions about fat people - we're lazy, disorganized, unhealthy, unable to handle day-to-day stress without a steady supply of chocolate - whatever! We have to work way harder to overcome our coworkers' and managers' innate biases, and interviewing can be much more important to us as a way of proving our ability to fit the position we want, regardless of preconceived notions. The last thing a fat person needs is to have their ensemble disqualify them before they have a chance to be heard.

 

So, here are a list of typical interview outfit rules, and adaptations for the pudgy. Please remember that these are just from my experience, and in a corporate environment. For those interviewing in a more creative or relaxed field, alter appropriately.

 

1. Wear a dark-colored suit

 

This is the hardest one to work with for a plus-sized lady. Without the aid of a tailor, suits don't work for most of us. A fat lady is not just a thin woman scaled up! Our bodies distribute fat in such different ways. For example, I have the fattest arms ever! If a jacket fits my body, it still won't fit my arms. If it fits my arms, it will hang off my body.

 

If you can wear a suit as a fat woman, more power to you. If not, then go for a dark dress or a pair of nice, crisp slacks/below-knee-length fitted skirt and a dress shirt.

 

SimplyBe has a great, simple dress.

 

 

This top by Lane Bryant is understated and professional.

This skirt by Old Navy (shock!) is also a good choice.

You can also pair a nice cardigan (plain, no frills, clean lines!) or scarf with any of the above to help complete the outfit. Three pieces is automatically a little more pulled together.

2. Tuck in your shirt

Only you can decide if it works for your body and comfort level. Tucking in my shirt makes me look like a beach ball, but not all plus-sized ladies are created equal. If it's more flattering and creates a longer line, leave it untucked. Just make sure the hem isn't dropping and you've ironed it.

I like to keep it simple and go with a dress; then I don't have to make this decision.


3. Wear dark-colored pumps, no higher than a 3 inch heel

You will not catch me in pumps. If the corporate compound is large, you have to walk around in those heels, which causes back and leg aches for me. You also won't catch me in oxfords, athletic shoes, or sandals.

If you can wear pumps, awesome. Wear those heels. If not, then go with some plain, dark-colored flats.

4. Keep jewelry simple

This isn't size specific, but it's a good one to remember. Wear no more than one accent item - be it jewelry, a scarf, or a handbag. An interview isn't the time to look like a Macy's float, but one accent item can help them remember you - especially if they're interviewing a lot of candidates.

"I really liked that one girl... The one with the red scarf."

5. If you question whether you should wear it, don't

Again, not size specific. When in doubt, don't wear it out.

Here are the don'ts:

1. Don't wear anything too revealing

This should be a standard for anyone, but especially a larger person. It's not OK, but some people just aren't comfortable with a larger person's body. Once you're hired, you can challenge the status quo. You can't make them rethink things if you aren't around, though.

2. Make sure your clothing fits properly and is comfortable

Nothing says nervous like fidgeting. Your potential employer doesn't know you're putzing around because your pants are cutting off circulation to your feet, and not because you're trying to think of an answer about how you promoted diversity in your previous positions.

3. Don't wear anything faded, pilling, with holes, dropped hems, or just worn out

Don't wear a favorite pair of pants or shirt in the hopes they don't notice the oil stain that's only visible in certain light. It's an interview; they'll notice. This is, like, the only time it's completely socially acceptable to scrutinize someone else.

Basically, your clothing shouldn't speak for you in an interview. It should be an empty canvas, and your resume, personality, and answers should be the main event. Don't give the hiring manager an excuse to turn you away before you've even painted a picture.

My Second Act

I'm trying to figure out what I'm going to do with my for-real adulthood.

The job I have now is what I spent my pretend adulthood working toward: calculated steps and moving with a drive like a teenager playing chicken, unwilling to pull away before the other person does. Everything was a competition, and I was definitely not a loser. In my struggle to not be defeated, I still haven't won.

I've somehow become a corporate leader who specializes in career development. I've helped people figure out what they want to do with their lives and how to get there, been a trusted mentor and supervisor, and become a master manipulator.

And I hate it. It started creeping up like shower mold. Just a corner at first, but eventually you're embarrassed to let anyone use your bathroom and can't believe you actually try to get clean in that filth.

I realized I hated how much of my life was spent working toward someone else's goals in an industry I didn't believe in, so I changed jobs; the new one let me work fewer hours and got me out of privatized banking. It was OK for a while. The only problem was I still hated the standardized coaching and punishment/reward system that infantilized everyone involved in it. I hated thinking of what the company needed, as if it were a sentient being whose well-being was in my hands.

Things have come to a head. I'm done with my job and just biding time until I can escape, for real. My dear husband is working on getting some training so we're not relying primarily on my job, which will give me the freedom to take a risk.

I have no idea where to go or what to do. You'd think I could figure this out, considering that's what I do for other people - but I'm a blank. Follow your passion? Do what you're good at? The only thing I know I'm good at is this - what I've spent my twenties and early thirties building myself into. I'm a corporate machine, and I want to break out of my metal shell.

I can make my life in this business world last a while longer; I could get a different position like training or projects or something - something that gets me out of management. Ultimately, though... I need an actual exit strategy.

What am I good at? What am I passionate about? What should I work toward being when I finish growing up?