Strange Condition is one of my favorite Pete Yorn songs. Ironically, it was in the middle of him performing that song at the Fillmore recently that I realized I was suffering from a strange condition myself – otherwise known as poor self-esteem.
Heather had an extra ticket to the Pete Yorn concert and invited me to join her. It had been months since I last saw my friend and as we have similar musical tastes, I knew we'd be in for a fun evening. Plus, I love the Fillmore. It is by far one of San Francisco's greatest musical venues, not only for its intimacy, but for the history. From the framed concert photos lining the walls, to the crystal chandeliers in the main room, the place just channels the ghosts of Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, and Jerry Garcia. I have seen many shows at the Fillmore, and I've never been disappointed.
Still, no one told me I was going to have to hold my gut in all night.
The reasoning behind my self-induced tummy tucking was the presence of a video crew recording the concert that evening. At one point in Pete Yorn's set, I heard Heather mumble something in my general direction. I leaned in closer as I couldn’t understand what she was trying to communicate, only to hear her mumble again. On the third attempt, I realize she’s attempting to speak without moving her lips, not unlike a ventriloquist, warning me we were both on camera.
Upon realizing they are being photographed, most people will ham it up for the camera, smile, or even try to look extra cool. I took the route of looking directly at the camera, wide-eyed, and exclaiming in horror, "OH SHIT!"
It wasn't being on camera that bugged me, it was my appearance. It had been a stressful day at work. I was so late meeting Heather that evening, I didn’t have time to put make-up on, my hair was a wreck, and the outfit I had on wasn’t my most flattering to my waistline. I didn't exactly want to be immortalized on a concert video looking like a sausage.
I have been suffering from a weight image problem my entire life. I refer to most of my childhood as the Butterball years. It wasn't until junior high where I grew about four inches in a summer that I lost much of the baby fat. Still I've always had a gut, even when I was super sick in college, and dropped to a scary 110 lbs. That isn't much weight for a woman who is almost 5'9 feet tall. I found it ironic to be able to count my ribs but still have a pooch.
Last year I became obsessed with losing my belly. I hired a personal trainer, did pilates 3-5 days a week, and started kicking up my cardio with hikes in the hills behind my house. I never got rock hard abs and it was frustrating, although I felt healthy and people went out of their way to say I looked great.
Since I tore my labrum in August, the weight issue has only gotten worse for me. Six months of serious inactivity has made me lose the muscle I had built up. Cellulite has returned. Lately, my self-image assessment has ranged from feeling repulsive to pathetic. I've actually lost over ten pounds since the injury, mostly muscle, but the biggest loss has come at the price of my confidence and self-esteem.
As the video crew moved away from us, an overwhelming wave of sadness struck me. I realized right then just how bad I had let my self-esteem issue become. I hate the person I’ve become - pitiful has never been my strong trait. I’ve got to figure out a way to like me, faults and all.
Most women will tell you they hate their bodies. We are constantly bombarded by images of what the media and society dictate as female physical perfection. For most women, these looks are unobtainable. Still how many women do we know who torture ourselves for not having Jessica Biel’s body, Halle Berry’s stunning looks, or Eva Longoria’s sexiness?
It is unfair to hold myself to those standards anymore. I don’t have the means or the time to work out four hours a day with a personal trainer to get rock solid abs. I don’t have a stylist choosing the right clothes to fit my curves, or a hair stylist making every lock fall perfectly in place. Truly, all I can do is start believing in myself again – once the confidence returns, the rest will eventually follow.
My self-image insecurities won’t be fixed overnight. There will be good days and bad days ahead. I know as I start resuming exercise, I’ll start feeling better physically. The emotional aspects are much harder to mend. I look forward to rebuilding my inner confidence so the next time I’m caught off-guard by a camera, instead of feeling ashamed and wanting to hide, I’ll be proud of the person staring into the lens.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Three Months Later...
Today is the three month anniversary of my shoulder surgery.
Zipadeedodah. I know you're all tired of hearing about it. But humor me for just a few more minutes...I promise, I'm running out of things to say on the topic.
I received a nice posting from a guy named Jason who is recovering from the very same surgery. He wanted to know how my recovery is going and if it is normal to feel pain seven weeks out of having a Bankart repair.
Well Jason, do you want the good news or the bad news first?
Let's get the bad out of the way. The answer to pain at seven weeks out is sadly, yes. I was still in a world of hurt at that point. I had only been out of wearing my immobilizer at work for about a week, but had to keep it on at bedtime as my arm was too weak to sleep without the extra support. I was reliant on pain medication and ice more than I expected. I wish I had better news for where you are at in your recovery. I too was alarmed at the pain and convinced my doctor had made a terrible mistake during my procedure for me to experience pain at that level.
And now for the good news...
At 13 weeks, my outlook and pain level are so much better. In fact, for me, nine weeks was the true turning point. As I proceed deeper into physical therapy, the movement and strengthening exercises seem to help both physically and emotionally. Sure, it doesn't feel great all the time...rain, cold, dampness, and overdoing it at PT can really hurt at times. Remember, your shoulder has gone through a major trauma and it has been immobile for weeks. What you are going through, from what I've learned from others who've had the same surgery, is a normal part of the process.
I'm happy to report I've regained about 70-75 % of my mobility back at this time. I will continue at PT for the next couple months, and my doctor and therapists are all pleased with my progress. Pain will still be a part of your future, but it does get better. I know it is frustrating...truly, only someone who has gone through what appears to be such a minor procedure will understand what you are saying about the pain. There is nothing minor about living in constant pain. Try not to get too frustrated - better days are on their way. Until then, I will keep wishing you a speedy end to your painful days.
Zipadeedodah. I know you're all tired of hearing about it. But humor me for just a few more minutes...I promise, I'm running out of things to say on the topic.
I received a nice posting from a guy named Jason who is recovering from the very same surgery. He wanted to know how my recovery is going and if it is normal to feel pain seven weeks out of having a Bankart repair.
Well Jason, do you want the good news or the bad news first?
Let's get the bad out of the way. The answer to pain at seven weeks out is sadly, yes. I was still in a world of hurt at that point. I had only been out of wearing my immobilizer at work for about a week, but had to keep it on at bedtime as my arm was too weak to sleep without the extra support. I was reliant on pain medication and ice more than I expected. I wish I had better news for where you are at in your recovery. I too was alarmed at the pain and convinced my doctor had made a terrible mistake during my procedure for me to experience pain at that level.
And now for the good news...
At 13 weeks, my outlook and pain level are so much better. In fact, for me, nine weeks was the true turning point. As I proceed deeper into physical therapy, the movement and strengthening exercises seem to help both physically and emotionally. Sure, it doesn't feel great all the time...rain, cold, dampness, and overdoing it at PT can really hurt at times. Remember, your shoulder has gone through a major trauma and it has been immobile for weeks. What you are going through, from what I've learned from others who've had the same surgery, is a normal part of the process.
I'm happy to report I've regained about 70-75 % of my mobility back at this time. I will continue at PT for the next couple months, and my doctor and therapists are all pleased with my progress. Pain will still be a part of your future, but it does get better. I know it is frustrating...truly, only someone who has gone through what appears to be such a minor procedure will understand what you are saying about the pain. There is nothing minor about living in constant pain. Try not to get too frustrated - better days are on their way. Until then, I will keep wishing you a speedy end to your painful days.
Sunday, February 04, 2007
The Velvet Bulldozer
I've always had the gift of gab. I can't do anything in short-form, from phone calls to email to blogging. My wordiness has always been a reflection of how I communicate with others.
That is unless I have to stand in front of a room of strangers and a video camera.
Last week my boss decided it would be beneficial for us to enroll in a "Speaking with impact" class offered through our employer. Since I took two speech classes in college, have spoken in front of crowds of hundreds of people, even sang karaoke in front of 400 strangers on a cruise ship, I didn't flinch when told to enroll in this course. Somehow I overcame my stage fright in all those other situations, why should this be any different?
The class was made up of eight professionals, each from different divisions of our company. It felt a little like a scene out of the movie The Breakfast Club but instead of a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess, and a criminal spending a Saturday in detention together, we were the corporate khaki-wearing grown-up version of the movie. In the place of those titles, we had a sales guy, a consultant, a marketing manager, a product manager, and a spaz (me).
Don't mess with the bull, young man. You'll get the horns.
Our instructors seemed nice at the first but it became quickly obvious that they were only there to break my spirit. Almost immediately, we were put on the spot, having to get up in front of the class (including my boss) and come up with a 90 second speech about who we are, how long we've been with the company, hobbies, etc. Oh, and if that didn't make you the slightest bit nervous, we were also to be videotaped doing this.
When my turn rolled around, I knew I was a little jittery. We were told to stand with our arms by our sides, feet planted steadily hip width apart. We were to make eye contact with the audience, and walk around a bit. When I got up there, I thought I had followed every rule to the ultimate detail. I even started fantasizing that after one viewing, the instructors would marvel at my stature and composure to the point I would be excused from the class.
What appeared on the video playback didn't resemble a confident person at all. In fact, the person speaking looked just like me, but she was fidgeting with her hair, looking everywhere but at the audience, shifting her weight from hip to hip, speaking without pausing to breathe, and most unfairly, the "camera" was obviously adding ten pounds to her figure. Damn camera...
Going back to Breakfast Club references, my fantasy of being excused from class seemed to suddenly resemble John Bender getting two months of Saturday detention from Vernon. And was Kristen, like Claire, a fat girls name? There would be no dismissal - it was obvious I needed this class...along with a membership to Weight Watchers.
For two days I was forced to speak several times in front of the class which put me completely outside my comfort zone. During breaks and lunch, I was a totally different person. The lunch time Kristen was relaxed, joked with classmates, even told a few stories. That Kristen had no problems with eye contact or completing sentences. My confidence was intact. Yet, as soon as the class would start again, I reverted to sounding something like Bob "Bobcat" Goldthwait and twitching like I had Parkinson's Disease.
My public speaking alter-ego:
If Hollywood were to make a movie of my two-day speaking with impact class, they would start with my awkward beginnings, and slowly, with each speech show gradual improvement. Something like the theme from Rocky would play in the background and there would be a montage of my highs and lows. On the day of the final presentation, I would start off with a stumble, overcome my mistake, and in the end deliver the most amazing speech ever. My classmates would give me a standing ovation, and my instructors would weep proudly and call me their best student ever.
Unfortunately, I live in the real world, so as I did make some baby steps in my public speaking abilities, it wasn't anything I'd actually call true improvement.
As the second day of class wound to a close, each of us were called on to comment about what we saw as strengths in one another. Coming up with accolades for my classmates was easy. Some had a gentle way about them and knew exactly when to pause so you were instantly captivated. Others were incredible in locking eyes with the audience, pulling you into their every word. Some mastered walking in a arch, others overcame saying um and like every other word. And then came my turn. I took a deep breath and waited in dread that I'd hear crickets chirping instead of accolades.
In the end, I was my worst critic. While I may be a nervous wreck in front of a crowd, my content remained strong and my sense of humor was well-received. The best moment was when I was christened with a new nickname...The Velvet Bulldozer. The nickname is not a reference to the pounds the "camera" was adding to my physique, but rather, as my classmate put it, if I could pull it together in the confidence arena to be more like the sassy, story-telling, funny Kristen at lunchtime, look out.
I don't know if the day will come where I'll ever feel that confident in front of a crowd, but I love the nickname nonetheless. I do know with every speaking opportunity, I will try a little harder, and I'll always think fondly of my own personal Breakfast Club.
That is unless I have to stand in front of a room of strangers and a video camera.
Last week my boss decided it would be beneficial for us to enroll in a "Speaking with impact" class offered through our employer. Since I took two speech classes in college, have spoken in front of crowds of hundreds of people, even sang karaoke in front of 400 strangers on a cruise ship, I didn't flinch when told to enroll in this course. Somehow I overcame my stage fright in all those other situations, why should this be any different?
The class was made up of eight professionals, each from different divisions of our company. It felt a little like a scene out of the movie The Breakfast Club but instead of a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess, and a criminal spending a Saturday in detention together, we were the corporate khaki-wearing grown-up version of the movie. In the place of those titles, we had a sales guy, a consultant, a marketing manager, a product manager, and a spaz (me).
Don't mess with the bull, young man. You'll get the horns.
Our instructors seemed nice at the first but it became quickly obvious that they were only there to break my spirit. Almost immediately, we were put on the spot, having to get up in front of the class (including my boss) and come up with a 90 second speech about who we are, how long we've been with the company, hobbies, etc. Oh, and if that didn't make you the slightest bit nervous, we were also to be videotaped doing this.
When my turn rolled around, I knew I was a little jittery. We were told to stand with our arms by our sides, feet planted steadily hip width apart. We were to make eye contact with the audience, and walk around a bit. When I got up there, I thought I had followed every rule to the ultimate detail. I even started fantasizing that after one viewing, the instructors would marvel at my stature and composure to the point I would be excused from the class.
What appeared on the video playback didn't resemble a confident person at all. In fact, the person speaking looked just like me, but she was fidgeting with her hair, looking everywhere but at the audience, shifting her weight from hip to hip, speaking without pausing to breathe, and most unfairly, the "camera" was obviously adding ten pounds to her figure. Damn camera...
Going back to Breakfast Club references, my fantasy of being excused from class seemed to suddenly resemble John Bender getting two months of Saturday detention from Vernon. And was Kristen, like Claire, a fat girls name? There would be no dismissal - it was obvious I needed this class...along with a membership to Weight Watchers.
For two days I was forced to speak several times in front of the class which put me completely outside my comfort zone. During breaks and lunch, I was a totally different person. The lunch time Kristen was relaxed, joked with classmates, even told a few stories. That Kristen had no problems with eye contact or completing sentences. My confidence was intact. Yet, as soon as the class would start again, I reverted to sounding something like Bob "Bobcat" Goldthwait and twitching like I had Parkinson's Disease.
My public speaking alter-ego:
If Hollywood were to make a movie of my two-day speaking with impact class, they would start with my awkward beginnings, and slowly, with each speech show gradual improvement. Something like the theme from Rocky would play in the background and there would be a montage of my highs and lows. On the day of the final presentation, I would start off with a stumble, overcome my mistake, and in the end deliver the most amazing speech ever. My classmates would give me a standing ovation, and my instructors would weep proudly and call me their best student ever.
Unfortunately, I live in the real world, so as I did make some baby steps in my public speaking abilities, it wasn't anything I'd actually call true improvement.
As the second day of class wound to a close, each of us were called on to comment about what we saw as strengths in one another. Coming up with accolades for my classmates was easy. Some had a gentle way about them and knew exactly when to pause so you were instantly captivated. Others were incredible in locking eyes with the audience, pulling you into their every word. Some mastered walking in a arch, others overcame saying um and like every other word. And then came my turn. I took a deep breath and waited in dread that I'd hear crickets chirping instead of accolades.
In the end, I was my worst critic. While I may be a nervous wreck in front of a crowd, my content remained strong and my sense of humor was well-received. The best moment was when I was christened with a new nickname...The Velvet Bulldozer. The nickname is not a reference to the pounds the "camera" was adding to my physique, but rather, as my classmate put it, if I could pull it together in the confidence arena to be more like the sassy, story-telling, funny Kristen at lunchtime, look out.
I don't know if the day will come where I'll ever feel that confident in front of a crowd, but I love the nickname nonetheless. I do know with every speaking opportunity, I will try a little harder, and I'll always think fondly of my own personal Breakfast Club.
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