Tag: pandemic

Authenticity Comes Out of the Closet

On By StormyIn Attitude, Fashion/beauty, Getting older1 Comment

Earlier I posted about how my goal this year was to be Authentic. Well, one aspect of my life that is coming under my personal authenticity scrutiny is my wardrobe. Like many of you, the last few years have been hard on it.

Pre-pandemic: Something for every occasion

I worked (mostly) in an office, took several business trips a year, took Pilates classes, had an average social life with one or two “fancy” events per year. My closet contents reflected this pretty well, with lots of wool skirts, cashmere sweaters and tights. (Did I mention it gets cold here?) 

Pandemic: What day is it?

Each morning, I woke up asking myself, what day is this? Our three-year Groundhog Day meant 90% of my wardrobe (and jewelry) remained untouched while the following were in heavy rotation (depending on the season):

  • Athleisure
  • Jeans (but only the comfy ones)
  • Shorts
  • T-shirts
  • Tank tops
  • Sundresses/t-shirt dresses

In the winter, I expanded my “outdoor” wardrobe, buying flannel-lined jeans, flannel-lined joggers and multiple hats (after living my whole life as someone who resisted winter hats due to my bangs). Just an aside here: If you live in a cold climate, flannel-lined pants are a game changer. If you like to go walking outside, buy them, you won’t regret it. 

And, as someone whose shoe collection consisted mostly of high heels and boots, I also bought more flats (sneakers and sandals). 

Post-Pandemic: Accepting that my old life is forever gone

KitKat wearing a blingy brunch outfit

As life has slowly returned to its “new normal,” I recognize that my go-forward lifestyle will probably never align with my pre-pandemic wardrobe. Over the last few years, I’ve offloaded quite a bit to Dress for Success, Goodwill and the local consignment shop, but there are still items in my closet that haven’t seen daylight since before the pandemic. Since I never quite know what lies ahead, I’m reluctant to give away too much. After all, you never know when KitKat might need to borrow something blingy for a Taylor Swift Drag Brunch! (Despite my low-key everyday appearance, I own a surprising number of sequins.) 

But what should my wardrobe look like? That is, what is my personal authentic style? I could heed the advice of the endless “How to dress over 50” articles that flood my FB feed, but as a content creator myself, I know that the people writing these articles are just aiming for clicks and so I give them no special credence. Most of them highlight do’s and don’ts that one must adhere to in order to “age gracefully.” Screw that. 

What does an Authentic Wardrobe look like, anyway?

If there is any benefit to growing older (and there is) it’s primarily this—not caring so much about others’ opinions. I don’t want to age gracefully; I want to age defiantly—which is another way of saying I want to be authentic, I guess.

When you hold onto these weird pants for years and voila you're invited to an art opening.

When you hold onto these weird pants for years, thinking “Will I ever wear these again?”

And voilà, an art show opening appears on your calendar.

Authenticity means that I have my own opinions about what I think looks good on me, and if it doesn’t meet the style standards of the fashion influencers, I don’t really care (that’s where the defiant part comes in). Case in point: Look at the red carpet photos for any Met Gala and you will always find plenty of celebrities wearing ridiculous outfits that were carefully curated and assembled by a team of stylists. But those who convey true style are invariably those who look most comfortable in their skin. So that’s what I’m trying to achieve… 

When my kids were growing up and immersed in the middle school culture of cliques—cool kids and wannabes, I explained that as you get older you realize that the coolest people are the ones who are too busy doing cool things to worry about whether they look or act cool. I have a weirdly shaped body—no really, I do!—that I have come to accept, but also must accommodate. For example, I have broad shoulders and a large ribcage, but small breasts (which rules out most button-down shirts or any top or blazer that is very fitted). I also have unusually wide feet, which means I will never buy ballet flats or penny loafers, even if I think they look cute on other people.

When I turned 40, I was more concerned with dressing appropriately for my age, but at this stage of my life, I pretty much know what works and what doesn’t (that’s the graceful part—I’m not going to fight Mother Nature). However, I will probably continue to wear overalls, camo prints, bikinis and cargo pants regardless of what’s in vogue or recommended for “women of a certain age.” So, I guess “gracefully defiant” is Stormy’s authentic style.

Christianity or Karma: An election paradox

On By StormyIn Attitude, Faith, PoliticsLeave a comment

On May 2, 2011, Oskar and I were watching TV when programming was disrupted by breaking news: Osama bin Laden had just been killed in a secret raid. I turned to Oskar and high-fived him (!) and then I was immediately ashamed. I had just high-fived my husband over a man being murdered—what was wrong with me?

Like all Americans, I had been devastated by the terrorist attacks on 9/11 and viewed Osama bin Laden as Public Enemy #1. My gut reaction to his death was a rather base reflex triggered by all of the anxiety he had caused me and my fellow citizens. As a Christian, I condemn evil in all its forms, but I also know that it’s not my job to condemn another human being (even if that human being does evil things) OR to celebrate their death. I was able to forgive myself for what I considered a very human reaction, and I prayed that in bin Laden’s final moments as the raid was occurring, he somehow recognized his sins and was able to make his peace with God. 

History repeats itself

Fast-forward to last night: I read that Hope Hicks, a close aide of Trump’s, had tested positive for Covid-19. My immediate gut reaction was a mixture of excitement and hope, thinking: “Maybe he’ll get it and this nightmare will end!” Then again, as with the bin Laden incident, I felt ashamed. 

This morning, I awoke to the news that my wish had come true when my sister texted me, “Is it wrong to say I hope he dies? Or at least gets very sick?” I responded, confessing that I had had a similar thought the previous night. Then I reflected on the whether it was morally justified to wish for some kind of karmic justice… After all, Trump is not an innocent victim of the coronavirus the way that millions of others have been. He has had top epidemiological experts advising him, access to the latest data/research, any precautionary equipment (tests, PPE) that he could possibly need, and a whole team of sycophants willing to cater to his every whim, and he has willfully chosen not to utilize any of these resources in a responsible manner. Furthermore, as a result of his negligence and his lies, 200,000 people have died. 

So, my thinking is that if the virus is among us and someone is going to catch it—or even die from it—then there is a certain poetic justice in it being him. But, looking at the situation from my Christian perspective, I can’t “celebrate” that, in the same way that President Obama never celebrated the death of bin Laden, even though he was the one who ordered the raid. Instead, I will follow the lead of both Joe Biden and Nancy Pelosi who have exuded admirable class when they—honestly, I believe—express concern for those GOP members afflicted with the virus and pray for their recovery. Because that’s what decent human beings do in a civilized society. (Frankly, I’m not sure I would be able to display as much grace as they have, had I undergone the many personal attacks they’ve had to endure from Trump.)

Was I guilty of giving oxygen to hatred?

And that last sentence sums up my biggest issue with Trump. The thing that I hate most about him is that he has exposed my own hatred. I really loathe the man. I hate his policies, his greed and his racism, yes, but more than that, I hate the way that he makes a mockery of our democracy and plays Americans—even his most devoted followers—for absolute fools. And I hate the fact that he has done irreparable damage to my relationships with people who fail to denounce him. Because, by accepting (or even tolerating) his lies, his white supremacist ideology, his fascist dictator-like posturing, his condemning of the media, his threats of violence if the election doesn’t go his way—they have lost all of my respect. I can never look at them the same way or continue to have a social relationship with them. 

And I hate myself for hating him so much. While I recognize that “hating the hater” is not the same as “being a hater” (after all, as we learned in math class the double negative cancels itself out) holding that kind of hatred in one’s heart is a poisonous proposition.

Resentment is like drinking poison and hoping that it will kill your enemies.  

Nelson Mandela

I realized earlier this week that I’ve been generally unhappy for a very long time. Yet when I examine my life, most things in it are going pretty well. I have a supportive spouse and family, I’m financially secure, I live in a comfortable home, have good health, etc. While I don’t like dealing with this pandemic any more than the next person, I’ll freely admit that it’s affected me much less dramatically than it has many people. In fact, I consider myself fortunate in many ways. So, it didn’t take me long to identify the source of my unhappiness: Trump. Or, perhaps more specifically, the hatred and chaos that he thrives upon and brings out in other people.

And then I had another realization: I have just one life and, for-better-or-worse, this is it. Yet each day I’ve been giving mindshare over to this horrible person who doesn’t deserve an ounce of my respect, let alone any of my waking thoughts. Consequently, I had been giving oxygen to the hatred that he thrives upon. Worse, I’d been letting him steal my happiness in the same way he’s been trying to steal the election. And then I got determined… I’ll be damned if I let him steal my joy! 

Instead, I vowed to redirect my election anxiety into optimism and positivity. So, while I won’t wish a Darwinian death upon the cause of my unhappiness, what I hope for—and will pray for—is that this experience does two things:

1) Wakes up the 1/3 of the population that thinks this virus is a “hoax,” “just like the flu,” or “will disappear” so that they start wearing their damn masks and stop undermining the rest of us who are trying to get this pandemic under control (so we can avoid further needless death and rebuild our economy), and

“The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”

Martin Luther King, Jr.

2) Gives 45 an excuse to bow out of the race (for health reasons). As a classic narcissist who is facing the near-certain humiliation of losing, this would allow him to save face. I don’t even care if he resigns while proclaiming that he has been the Greatest President of All Time. I just want him gone. Gone—so we can shore up our badly battered democracy, control the outbreak of this virus, begin to recover our economy, and provide basic human rights and justice for ALL Americans. 

However, since we can’t be confident this will happen, we have to double-down on the original plan of making sure Biden is elected—and preferably by a landslide so as to minimize any post-election violence. My dream is to make this a reality:

The takeaway…

If you have NOT yet voted, PLEASE DO SO. And vote EARLY, so there is time to straighten out any possible registration or postal issues. 2020 has been one for the history books. But we need to do our part if we’re to succeed in containing the chaos to just this one calendar year. If you have any questions about HOW to vote, WHERE to vote, how to register, etc., send us a message and we’ll help you determine a safe voting plan. 

I’m not scared, YOU’RE scared!

On By StormyIn Attitude, Politics, Random, Summer1 Comment

It’s nearly August and the Coronavirus continues to spread, largely unchecked, in America. Likewise, on social media, the mask debate rages on. (I bet other countries are surprised to learn that there even IS such a thing as a mask debate in this country. But that’s the topsy-turvy, Alice-in-Wonderland version of the US we’re living in, sadly, during this Trump administration.)

In 2015, I did a blog post on the topic of “Living Fearless” because that’s long been a motto that I try to live by. Which is why I get so annoyed by anti-maskers who believe that those of us advocating compliance with masking mandates are “living in fear.” 

Basement dwellers and other myths

“I feel sorry for them, cowering in their basements…afraid to go out and live their lives,” they write…while congratulating each other for their bravery in “standing up for freedom.”  

Let me just say: No, no and NO. This is not an accurate assessment of anyone I know who is an advocate of wearing masks.

Speaking for myself, I can assure you that I’m not living in fear of catching the Coronavirus. While COVID-19 cases range from asymptomatic to annoying to deadly, I believe that my catching it would be more likely to result in inconvenience than hospitalization. However, all of the evidence has shown that it’s quite contagious, can be transmitted unknowingly, and can have long-term and lethal consequences in some instances—particularly for people who aren’t as healthy as me. Therefore, I consider it a moral imperative that I take sensible precautions to protect others. 

Let’s repeat them together: 

Fear is not my motivation for these actions. But having a healthy respect for science and a willingness to be inconvenienced for the sake of other people? Guilty as charged. In other words, I plead guilty to being a considerate human being. 

Let’s baaaaaaaaand together and beat this thing

Another annoying response to any online mask debate is the troll who will invariably respond with this gif:

Running a close second to the Haha emoji in its ubiquity, the implication is that those who follow these public health rules are sheep and not free-thinkers. Again…no.

Sure, a lot of respected leaders are asking people to wear masks. But do you know why? Because they work. And sometimes, knowledgeable people share their experience for the greater good—so others don’t have to learn the hard way. It doesn’t mean that the people who follow the lead of experts aren’t capable of making a decision on their own. It means they are exercising common sense. Take the old stick-your-tongue-on-a-frozen-flagpole gambit. You can ask 20 intelligent adults if this is a good idea and chances are not one of them will recommend it. So, are you a sheep if you follow their advice, or are you…maybe…just…wise? 

(Spoiler Alert: Here’s how that would turn out for ya.)

I believe that what so many people are interpreting as fear or herd mentality is in fact exasperation and frustration. Most Americans were under a stay-at-home order from mid-March through the end of April and even longer. We collectively sacrificed our relationships with friends and family, our jobs, our children’s schooling, our ability to see our aging parents. We missed out on weddings, graduations and funerals. Lives were lost. Businesses were shuttered. It was a huge sacrifice, but we started to flatten the curve…and see the light at the end of the tunnel…

…But then we opened everything up much too quickly and in the span of a few weeks, erased most of the progress we had made. 

Those who are advocating for the three common-sense measures (one more time for the guys in the back of the room)…

…are doing so, not because they are scared, but simply because they are tired of all this. They want to get on with their lives. They want to save our economy. They want the kids to be able to go back to school. And they want their friends, neighbors and relatives to lead long healthy lives. How to manage this pandemic is no mystery. Dozens and dozens of countries—even many third-world (or as Trump called them “shithole”) countries—have successfully handled it using the steps above.

In fact, people in those countries are somewhat confounded by the fact that America is doing so poorly when we have so much relative wealth compared to many of the countries that have beat this thing. They actually pity us for our poor leadership and our cut-off-our-nose-to-spite-our-face stubbornness. 

So, to circle back to the theme of this blog, I ask you: Who is scared? 

  • Is it the Frustrated, Exhausted Working Mom or Dad, juggling Zoom meetings and online classes, conscientiously limiting interactions with others, wearing a mask, and washing her hands? 
  • Or is it the Don’t-Tread-On-Me Individualist defying public health recommendations and harassing shop owners who are trying to protect their employees and customers? 

I contend that the true “Scaredy Cats” are the Don’t-Tread-On-Me Crowd. They are doubling-down on the mask issue because they are too scared to learn that all of their outrage and anger—at science, the media, and our liberal governors—has been misplaced. Too scared to discover that they’ve been contributed to the loss of lives and livelihoods for tens of thousands of innocent Americans.

If the latter group truly believes that this is all just a “plandemic,” and wants to refute my scaredy-cat claim, then let’s settle this debate with a Triple Dog Dare: There is a very easy way for you to prove yourselves right. Just follow the mandate for eight weeks and see what happens.  

Many public health officials agree that with uniform compliance it would take only 6-8 weeks to turn things around. So let’s try it. If it doesn’t work and I’m proven wrong, I will be the first to admit it here. Go ahead, America, I dare you!