I am sitting here reading the entries in this blog thinking that they could be my own thoughts, especially since like Joy; I just gave birth to a baby boy. But I am perplexed…

I work with and am friends with both Tiffany and Joy and have always seen them as two of the most beautiful people I know. I mean that both literally and figuratively. And speaking of figures, have you seen theirs???? It proves to me that beauty is all about perspective. I can’t imagine either one of these women obsessing over their looks or bodies. How could they, when they are perfect in my eyes. What could they possibly improve upon? Why do they not see it?

Joy and I gave birth two weeks apart, and unlike Joy, whose 23 year old body has not only bounced back to perfection, she has lost extra pounds and looks svelte and thin. If I didn’t know her and saw her walking down the street, I would swear she was the nanny. As there is no way someone that looks that good has a 3 month old baby…except Joy.

Or Tiffany, who even when she says she is “heavy” still blows me away with her strong, sexy figure. And I think “WOW” if I had her body, her self control…

It amazes me to know that these women whose bodies I dream about are thinking the same things that I am… That this is something that every woman, no matter how confident or beautiful wrestles with on a daily basis. Which leads me back to my point…beauty is about perspective or in the so-called eye of the beholder.

I am currently struggling with feeling like I am not in my own body. Heck, I haven’t been for the last year with being pregnant and giving birth. But now I look back to pictures of me pre-pregnancy (when I was at my heaviest weight and very depressed about it) and I think that I looked really good. I mean the stomach I thought was fat was actually flat, I had very little flaws and yet picked myself apart in the mirror every single day.

I now know, as I stand in front of the mirror with all of my stretch marks, and “baby weight” on my not-so-bouncing-back 30 year old body and realize that I was pretty darn beautiful. Does this mean that we will always look backwards and think it wasn’t so bad? Can’t we apply our perspective to the present? Or are we doomed to only look in the mirror and see reflections of our flaws?

Jade- You are dead on! It is ridiculous that we spend more time and energy focusing on our “flaws” then we do on all the other great things about ourselves. I (Joy), for one, do not want to keep looking at the past wishing that I would have enjoyed  and accepted my body no matter what shape it was in. I have no desire to look back when I am 80, old and wrinkled, and wonder why I was so foolish. p.s. I still think you are a hot mama! And you have the right to shoot me with a paintball gun if I complain about my body…ouch. I might regret saying that

I know that it hasn’t yet been a year since I found out that I was pregnant but we are pretty darn close. With that, I thought that I would post something that I wrote for our book… P.S. I love you Jude and I wouldn’t trade you for anything!

“   Two Pink Lines 

      January 14^th 2008. I (Joy) sat on a cold hard surface as a numbing sensation began to fill my entire body. Within seconds, my heart began to race and my breath came in short spurts. The object in my hand had just informed me that the course of my future was going to be altered, permanently. All this, I knew, simply by two pink lines. I was pregnant.

      Yes, pregnancy is an exciting and amazing time in which women have the unique opportunity to experience life within themselves. Many women are overwhelmed with happiness at the sight of a positive pregnancy test. I, however, was in such shock that I couldn’t quite figure out how I felt. I was only twenty-two and had been married for only six months. We both wanted to have children eventually… in five or six years. After a couple of days of processing the pregnancy, and many encouraging words from the hubby, I was finally ready to face reality. Since I am one of those people who do better with lots of information, I geared up to learn everything that I could about my pregnancy; do’s and don’ts, helpful tips and what to expect.

      I devoured the information and found myself creating a new lifestyle, one that didn’t include sushi, soft cheese, wine or skiing (I fall to much for it to be a safe activity). Along with my lifestyle change, I noticed a change in my perspective and mentality where body image was concerned. I was catapulted overnight into a body which was no longer my own, but rather a mini factory set up for my future son or daughter. My primary objective was to make sure that my “factory” was a safe place for the work that would be done.

      I immediately modified my workouts so that I wouldn’t put unnecessary strain on my body, eliminated most ab work and made sure to keep my heart rate within a safe range. This is the first time since high school that working out is only for my health with no ulterior motives like flat abs or fitting into my jeans. These aren’t bad motivations but it is such a strange thing to go to the gym knowing that my abs will start to look like jello, my hips will widen even more (scary thought, I know), and I will pack on about 30 pounds.

      However, it also freed me to take a new look at myself. Wow, I thought, as I looked in the mirror. I look great. I wanted to capture the image before me and frame it in my mind. Soon, I could have spider and varicose veins covering my legs and stretch marks reaching from east to west along my torso. My breasts will certainly never look the same and I am sure that I will encounter other surprises throughout the pregnancy. Why had I taken so long to appreciate what I had? What a waste of time. I can accept that my body may be forever changed after pregnancy, but I am grieved that I wasted what short time I had to enjoy a body that hadn’t yet been put through the strains of pregnancy. 

      ~ In the early stages of writing this book, Tiffany and I talked about the idea of beauty being gone, hence, what if it were gone. We talked about aging, accidents and I offered up the idea of pregnancy. And isn’t it interesting that God decided to give me firsthand knowledge of the subject that I would be writing about. Is it a little scary at times? Yes. Do I sometimes try to ignore facts and statistics like, 90% of women will develop stretch marks? Yes. Do I plan to watch as an army of cellulite decides to make camp on my thighs? No!

      As a matter of fact, I was laughing as I reread the above section that I wrote about a month and a half ago because my abs have started to look like jello. I think Jenny McCarthy describes it best in her book, Belly laughs, when she says that we feel that it is so obvious that we are pregnant but to the rest of the world, it just looks like we are getting fat. And my hips? Well, the extra cushioning on them has quickly eliminated half of the jeans in my closet. I feel like I am watching both the discovery channel and the sci-fi channel as I watch my body grow and change. I am intrigued and interested at times yet shocked and puzzled when I discover new blood vessels, protrusions and marks.

      It is truly a magnificent/ bizarre/ invigorating/ draining experience to be pregnant. But, is it worth it? A thousand times over. I can’t even begin to imagine the awe that I will feel when I hold my own child in my arms and know that their life was made possible because of my body. What a huge purpose our bodies can serve. Personally, I would rather have my body’s greatest accomplishment be that it brought life into this world and not that it had a six pack, wore a size four, or had 12% body fat. “
]]> http://mirroronthewall.wordpress.com/2009/01/02/last-january/feed/ 2 mirroronthewall http://mirroronthewall.wordpress.com/2008/11/30/i-love-coffee/ http://mirroronthewall.wordpress.com/2008/11/30/i-love-coffee/#comments Sun, 30 Nov 2008 19:48:15 +0000 mirroronthewall http://mirroronthewall.wordpress.com/?p=30 ]]> I’m currently sitting on my overwhelmingly comfortable bed, that resembles a giant marshmallow, peering out the window.  Itsy bitsy tiny little snowflakes are decorating the canvas of my window, and my cat, Charlie, is perched beside me mesmerized by what he sees.  I love these moments, the moments when the world seems so quiet and beautiful and I feel warm and content.  If I could just push the pause button and remain here for awhile that would be great, but eventually my day will begin.  Who knows what the day will lend itself to, but I do know that with each passing day it is getting easier to take the contentment I find in these special moments and carry it with me.  I often find myself stopping in the midst of the craziness of life, and reflecting on times such as these and I am reminded of my blessings.

I bet you are wondering why this blog is titled, “I love coffee!” Well, I am about to explain…You see, as I sit and stare out the window I also have a warm cup of Dunkin Doughnuts medium roast coffee in hand.  In fact, recently many of the quiet moments in my life are accompanied by a cup of coffee.  Coffee has become more than a drink, or a much needed caffeine fix, but it has also become a friend.  It is something I invited into my life that gives me an excuse to slow down each morning before I start my day.  It warms me from the inside out, and at the same time it forces me to sit down and enjoy its aroma and flavor.  Without saying a word my cup of coffee ushers, me into the world of contentment and peace that I was speaking of earlier.  There have been times that I have attempted to have my cup of coffee on the go, while I’m putting on my makeup or driving to work, but it never tastes as good.  It is almost as if it knows how much I need to slow down. So, if I try to enjoy it on the go it cools off quickly or releases its delicious flavor making my coffee consumption a mediocre experience.

There was once a time when I didn’t enjoy coffee, or at least I said that I did not enjoy coffee.  I will be honest and also admit to the fact that my moments of contentment were far and few between.  I was so controlling when it came to the things that I ate and drank.  I had an overwhelming desire to be insanely healthy, and coffee was not a part of my regimen.  Instead of having to tell people I don’t drink coffee because I am a control freak I just simply said, “No thank you, I can’t stand coffee.”  What a liar I was.  There was no way I couldn’t stand coffee, because I had never had it. 

I did this with a number of other things too, like pizza, potato chips and chocolate.  I know it was probably beneficial for my health to not be consuming these things, but my reasoning and my explanation for not partaking was what was wrong.  It was easier to say, “I don’t like that,” instead of being honest and saying, ”I actually would love that slice of pepperoni perfection but I am so afraid that if I start eating I wont stop, and then my ass will grow to be the size of texas and it will slowly take over the world.” I grew up in a family of dieters always trying to control what they ate.  I never wanted to announce that I was on a diet because to me diets were a sign of weakness.  If you went on a diet that meant that at some point you lost control.  I was not a fan of everything in moderation, I was a fan of restrict, restrict, restrict, and if you can pull it off don’t even try it cuz then you wont know what you are missing.  In essence I have always been a dieter too, I have just been so snicky about it that I even convinced myself that I was simply health concious.

There is nothing wrong with being healthy, but what I have come to realize is that there are lots of wonderfully scrumptious things in the world that I need to taste and enjoy before I die.  I have come to realize that a piece of pizza here, and a morsel of chocolate there are not going to ruin me.  My image was so important to me that it was impossible to ever feel content, my focus was on the wrong thing…me.  On my death bed I am not going to be thinking, “Tiff, great job on turning down that cup of coffee!” but I might be thinking, “I have tasted lots of delicious things in this world, including my morning cup of Dunkin Doughnuts coffee, and because of those peaceful mornings with my faithful friend I began to realize just who I was made to be.”

I swear it is the pumpkin bread, I can’t say no.  Or maybe it is the cold weather that forces those extra few pounds to grab onto my inner and outer thighs for dear life.  No matter how many more times I work out, no matter how many desserts I pass up I always pack on a little extra cushioning in the fall.  Simply put, it is my body’s way.  It likes to be a little extra squishy come winter, and there is nothing I can say or do about it.  Knowing this, always brings about that little tinge of anxiety that I hate to carry around with me.  The crazy little thoughts that sneak into my head like undetected stealth bombers, “Enjoy wearing these pants now, cuz in a week or two they’ll be retired,” “Sure, sleep in today Tiff since it’s still so dark out, but your ass will give this laziness away later.”  These thoughts are the thoughts that remind me of the fact that I have not been cured of my vanity, but I’m recovering from it.

I know I’m in recovery because I’m aware.  I am aware of the thoughts that creep into my mind, and I am aware of the destruction they cause.  I am aware of the fact that when I begin to think like this, and I begin to place so much importance on my physical appearance it is time for me to call up my sponsor.  I actually have quite a few sponsors, but my main sponsor is Joy.  Joy is my partner in crime on this blog site, and she is also one of the main reasons I have been able to face this horrible deamon.  I know that no matter how crazy the thoughts, no matter how incredibly vain I might appear I can share it all with her.  We both have realized that you have to not only be able to be honest with yourself about your struggles, but you have to be able to vocalize them to others to have any chance at overcoming them.  The reason for this is you can’t do it alone, or at least I know that I can’t do it alone. So I call in reinforcements.

I guess the point of sharing all of this is just to point out that it never goes away.  Each time that my vanity rears it’s ugly head I have a choice.  The choice being, to call my vanity what it is or deny that it exists.  If I begin to deny it’s existance the obsessions escalate.  If I choose to expose my dark secret I can begin to make sense of it and I am one step closer to being cured, but not quite.  The sense that I have garnered from my most recent bout is simply the fact that I usually become obsessive with my appearance when I feel like I am losing control in other areas of my life.  I am learning to pinpoint the places inside of me where the vanity begins to grow, and little by little I can rip it out by the roots.

So friends, I say once again, my name is Tiffany Vartanyan and I’m a recovering vainaholic.  I’ll see you at the weekly meeting.

Yesterday I had my 6 week post-partum check up at the doctor’s office. Luckily, JD had the day off and was able to go to the appointment with me. On our way home, we stopped at the mall to walk around and I ended up trying on some workout clothes (a little motivation now that it is time to get back in the gym). I normally always show JD what I am trying on; I value his opinion and know that he will be honest with me. I had grabbed a few pairs of shorts to try on when JD handed me a pair of short shorts! My immediate thought was- No way. But I tried them on to appease him.

I tried a couple pairs of comfy pants on and moved towards the dreaded booty shorts. I put them on and had to admit that they were so comfortable. They looked so cute on the hanger but I was hesitant to see them on my body. I opened my eyes and began to examine them in the mirror. They were quite short and I could see too much of my thighs…I can see some cellulite on the back of my legs…I need a tan before I can wear them…I don’t have the body for this!

I walked out with a, “See, I told you so” look on my face. Only to be met with, “Yeah, those look awesome on you. You look so good you need to get them”. Seriously? Seriously. How could we have such different opinions on the same thing? After trying everything on, I left the room with a pair or loose under armor pants. “You aren’t getting the shorts” JD said. “No, they are too short and I don’t feel like I am ready for that with my post pregnancy body. “ You are crazy; I think that you should get them”.

Hmmm. You know what? I got them. I decided that my husband just might see something that I don’t. I decided to trade my overly critical eye for the way that he sees me. I may have to battle feeling self-conscious in them but I want to see what he sees! I think that the first step in doing that is to trust what he says and just give it a try. Each time I put those shorts on, I am going to be reminded that my husband thinks that I look fabulous and that I can rock short shorts. After a while…I just might begin to believe it too!

So, I have been meaning to write about beauty- but have been stumped. The reason I haven’t been able to gather my thoughts on this topic is because I don’t believe that there is one definition of beauty. I think that many of our preconceptions concerning beauty are false. Many people say that the most beautiful people are those pictured in the media; actresses and models. Really?

I don’t know about you guys, but I have often watched America’s next top model with open curiosity. I don’t necessarily think that all of these women are beautiful. Yes, they can take great photos but am I captivated by their beauty? Not often. Sometimes I am too distracted by their bony frames or attitudes. I realize that this is a generalization and does not apply to everyone. However, it makes me question the power that we give the media. I think that we too often swallow the potion without asking questions or thinking for ourselves.

Just yesterday I was watching a commercial for the new 90210 and was shocked (sort of) to see how thin these teen girls were. If the camera adds 10 pounds…I don’t even want to know what they look like in real life. I hope that there comes a time where young women won’t feel like they have to be incredibly thin to be successful. One model says this exact statement on her myspace page. Her name is Elke the Stallion. I am not making this up. I first caught site of her on TLC’s LA Ink and was so in awe of her that I had to google her to find out more.

She has what we affectionately call a “shelf”. A ridiculously high, round, big ol’ booty. She was born in Germany and came to America where she found a niche in the hip hop world allowing her curvaceous bod to launch her modeling career. I just had to mention her to debunk some of the classic thought on models. Above I have pieced together some pictures that I find…hm, unattractive. And some that represent a wide array of what could be beautiful. But I will leave it up to you to find your own definition and understanding of beauty.  

Lohan’s character, Rachel, exudes sexuality and knows how to get and keep a man’s attention. She uses the only tool available to her to get what she wants. Who would know that this girl who is presumed to be a “slut”, a drinker and a drug user is just trying to survive and cope with her situation? How many Rachel’s do you know? How many women have no idea that they are worth something; that their life means something. That they are more than just a body and have more to give than sexual favors in exchange for a false feeling of love.

How can you ever have a positive self image, let alone positive body image, when such horrendous things have happened to you? Clearly, I do not have the answer to this. This issue lies very close to my heart and although I know that God can heal and restore, I wonder what role I can play in his redemption.

In the movie, Rachel messes around with a Mormon boy who already has a girlfriend. This causes a pack of girls to follow and harass her. They never stop to think that her behavior could just be a symptom of something deeper. It makes me wonder if I have ever done the same thing. Have I given another woman a title or judged her unfairly without ever looking deeper? Have you?  I am sure that there are times when I have played the role of the judgmental girl, as well as the role of Rachel; trying to rely on my “tools” to define my self worth. 

The issue of sexuality is another loaded topic which leaves me with many questions. I know that God designed sex and in its context it is good. Yet, so many young people are hurting because of the misuse of sex. And, sadly, so many marriages are hurting because of the misuse of sex as well. I remember a pastor saying that the devil tries to do everything that he can to get people to have sex before marriage, and he tries to do everything he can to keep people from having sex once they are married. It is amazing that a man’s or woman’s self-worth can be damaged from having sex before marriage or from not having sex within a marriage.

So, I am back at square one asking what we can do to address these issues. I think that we have to find a way to prevent women from trying to define themselves with a false sense of self. Yet, we also need to reach out to those who are in pain and in need of real love. How do we do this? Does anyone have an idea? We welcome all suggestions and truths that you have found throughout your journey…

Yesterday, I had a moment. This is something that I am sure every mother has when she faces her post baby body in a mirror, a photo, or a shopping trip. Mine was a shopping trip. My sister-in-law Tiffany and I went shopping with Kelly to get a gift for our Friend’s daughter, Ava. Our first stop was Target, which is always fun because they have so many things to look at. CDs, movies, household décor, baby supplies…etc. On our way home we stopped in this neat little section of town to check out a clothing store and spice shop. The spice shop was amazing. I have never seen that many inventive combinations of flavor and scent. I left with pumpkin pie spice, spiced vanilla bean sugar, and a delightful cheese mixture.
The clothing store however…was…umm, so so. Not the store itself. That part was amazing. I felt like I was back in California at my favorite spots that carried beautiful and unique clothing at a price that didn’t break the bank. They had shoes for $22, dresses for $30-$40, jewelry for $5. Tiff found a fantastic pair of work pants for $26.
Since Jude decided that it was time to nurse as soon as we got in the store, I spent my time in the dressing room with Tiffany as she tried on one fabulous thing after another. Everything looked so adorable on (for those of you who know Tiffany – we know that she could put a paper sack on her body and it would probably look stunning. For those of you who don’t know her, she is my 5’ 9” blonde bombshell sister-in-law). Regardless, I thought that it might be time for me to try on a few of these fabulous things.
Now before I elaborate on my experience, I should probably preface my story by saying that I had a baby 4 weeks ago. From what I have heard, I have NO right to complain! My labor was relatively easy and my body has done a huge “bounce” back to my normal state. I am back in my pre-pregnancy jeans and feel comfortable in most of my wardrobe. I am often met with incredulous stares when I tell people that I have recently had a baby. It does sound like I am tooting my own horn here, doesn’t it? On the contrary, I am about to embarrass myself with my honesty.
As I tried on a few things, I quickly realized that while I may be the same size as I was before; it is not the same. Clothing that would normally work really great on my body type, was unusually askew. Now, this is tricky because I have spent years learning what is best for my body. While I do have a rather curvy figure (what I really mean to say is hips and a booty), I have always had a tapered waist which I can accentuate. Now, for the first time, my butt has actually done a slight disappearing act. And my torso feels a little more square with abs that are, well, soft. I suppose that this is to be expected, my abdomen did just expand to house a baby but I was troubled by this realization.
I kept trying things on in case the first outfit was a fluke. Yet this only fueled my negative experience. I was like a runaway truck that was picking up steam with each passing mile. Finally, I looked at Tiff and said “I’m done” with a shake of my head. Like any good sister she said, “Hey, you just had a baby and we are still trying on the same size”. To which I replied, “Yes, it may be the same size, but it looks totally different!” I then sputtered on to say, “I know I am being silly. I know that I need to remind myself that I just had a baby and I am lucky to be doing as well as I am. But I just need a moment to complain. I feel bad complaining to anyone else because they will tell me that I am ridiculous but I know that I can say this to you”. “Yes”, she said, “you can complain to me but I am just going to turn around and give you a dose of reality”. These may not have been our exact words, but they are pretty close.
She then proceeded to pick up a fabulous gift for me; a very cool belt and headband. The belt is to remind me that I still have a small waist and while I may not feel ready to rock super-fitted clothing…that day may not be too far away. So why am I sharing my pettiness with you? Why am I admitting to being upset over shallow things? I suppose that it keeps me honest. I too can get sucked into thinking that that stuff really matters. I too can allow my image to affect my emotions. However, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Where I may have allowed these emotions to take over in the past; given them room to fester and take precedence in my mind, I will no longer allow that. Yes, I admit to having a “moment” yesterday but how great is it that it was just a moment!

Our book simply dives into our own personal struggles and the struggles of the women around us.  We wanted to start a dialogue, a dialogue amongst women who find themselves overwhelmed by their own vain obsessions.  I reached a point where I had to say no more, and so did Joy.  We were tired, tired of obsessing and tired of masking our obsessions.  Our healing began when we got real about just how self centered and vain we actually were, and we began to share it with one another.  Ever since we started exposing the horrible things we thought and did in regards to keeping up the facade of our appearance we began to experience freedom.  We simply want to start talking about this invisible epidemic that is robbing us from truly experiencing life and the freedom we all deserve to be exactly who we are. 

Joy and I have been on an amazing journey of discovering where our worth lies, and I now truly believe that it has nothing to do with the size of my ever increasing derrier but it has everything to do with the size of my heart.  As we continue on this journey Joy and I have set up this blog to post our stories and the stories of other women to begin the conversation that we so desperately need to be having.  We hope you enjoy…