50 shades of grey

I want you to picture two women in a shop. Another woman walks in and recognizes her friend and stops to say hello. Pleasantries are shared. Introductions are made. “So great to see you! You look terrific! Lets catch up over coffee…soon!”. As our third lovely lass is leaving the shop, her heel not even over the threshold, the two women begin “Did you see her hair?”. “Hmmppt…doesn’t she think she is all that since losing weight.”. “I wonder who she slept with to get that job?”. “What’s with the red hair? Doesn’t she know how foolish she looks?”. “I think she drinks too much.” as they saunter up to the counter.

This is a sampling of the daily, yes daily conversations I hear and am sadly sometimes apart of, everyday. I am not proud of this and when I realize what I am a part of, I try to stop it, or at least my part in it. Once I realize what is happening, I am usually excluded from these conversations soon after they begin because I tend to call people out on their shit. The minute I ask “What makes you say that?” or “How is she doing anyway?” or “Oh good for her! That’s awesome!” most women look at me like I have 3 heads and am speaking Chinese, then begin to carry on the conversation with whomever is closest and I am slowly but surely “uninvited” to the conversation.

Ever since I was a child, I never understood meanness or bullies. In fact, I was the kid who would end up getting in a scrap with the school yard bully. I don’t know why, I just had no room for someone being mean to someone else. I would always give them fair warning about what was to come. Some listened. Some did not. Jeans were torn. Eyes were blackened. Tears were shed (of course I held my in until no one was around, had to keep up appearances). In the end, the bully started to leave more kids alone. Some times we ended up becoming friends. Fast forward 30 years and I still cannot understand nor abide meanness and bullying. On the cusp of 44, I can no longer tell the bully to meet me behind the school, but I can speak my mind and speak up for the woman who is not present for the dissection of her image, her decisions and her life. I don’t know what it is about women, we are the first to unite against any man who disrespects a woman, yet we are also the first to disrespect a fellow woman for her choice of skirt length or hair color.

A few years ago, when I saw and heard what my then 15 year old daughter and girls her age were going through, Sunday Confession was born.

Sunday Confession

Today’s I have some reminders for those of us over 21, who should know better and should do better. Be kind. Seriously, it really is that easy.

Primary school playground antics belong on the playground.
High School is over.
Life is not a popularity contest.
Gossip is tacky
Do not be two faced, with anyone. There is not enough makeup in the world to cover that up.
If you see someone you don’t like when you are at the grocery store, do not cower under your shopping cart in hopes that they don’t see you. Do what your mother taught you, smile and say hello as you pass them.
When a woman changes her hair or hair color and loves it, do not ask her “Does your husband still kiss you with that hair?” – I have had more than one woman ask me this gem…and the answer is yes, every day.
If you wouldn’t give another woman your opinion to her face, please refrain from tweeting it or making it your status update.
You do not have to agree or respect another woman’s choices, nor does she have to agree with or respect yours.
When the day is done, who cares if you breast feed or bottle feed your baby. All that matters is that they are being fed….and it’s no one’s business what you choose to do with your baby.
When a woman loses weight, do not automatically assume her marriage is in trouble – another gem of a question/accusation tossed my way.
Reading “50 Shades of Grey” does not mean a woman is easy. …if anything it probably means her partner is very happy.
No one is what they “post” to be. (cannot take credit for that one, came across it a while back and love it)
When you hear of another woman’s accomplishment, celebrate it and her.
Unless you are the Madame of a brothel, it’s really none of your business who a woman has or has not slept with.
If you don’t want everyone knowing your business, don’t tell them.

The next time you are about to belittle another woman’s accomplishment, her life choices, her sexual partner or her hair color, remember this…what you say about the other woman says more about you than them.

Something has been playing on my mind as of late, and being me I gotta talk about it, I gotta. Working at a Salon, I hear lots of tales, of happiness, of despair, of births and deaths and everything in between. The tales that I find the most upsetting are those of shame. Grown women being ashamed of their bodies, their body image or lack there of and of their sex life. Unless you were in a convent or in a coma, I am sure you have heard of or read 50 shades of grey. I know that most of our clientele has read it or heard about it. I read the trilogy.Twice. Yeah…I said it. Some of the women spoke openly about it and we shared some cackles and blushes. Some of the women whispered about it, afraid that if they spoke openly and loudly about their book club choice that they would be judged. Some women hid the fact they were reading it because they didn’t want their husbands or best friends judging them, they didn’t want people thinking they were a slut. One woman I know was ashamed that she liked what she read and this is why I am writing this today.

When we are young, we are always being told to be a “good girl” and “nice girls” don’t behave like that – be it wearing too much lipstick, a low cut blouse, teasing our hair, kicking boys in the shin or kissing them in the back seat. What I have come to realize is this. Grown women forget that they are grown women now, not little girls under the ever watchful judgmental eye of society. If what you wear or how you choose to live your life makes you happy and is YOUR CHOICE, there is no shame to be had.

Forgive me ladies for what I am about to say. We prejudge our husbands/partners and don’t give them the benefit of the doubt. Yeah…I said it. You know it’s true. We are all guilty of it. So many women I know that read 50 shades said “there is no way I am telling my husband I liked that book! He’ll think I am a freak!” to which I always answered “He probably will and he will be over the moon!”. Some ladies laughed, others just stared and I could see their wheels of judgement begin to turn, to which I began to sing to myself…Big wheel keep on turnin’, Proud Mary keep on burnin’.

Too many women let the opinions (or what they think are the opinions) of the general public decide their fate. Some things you must realize. There will always be someone who will point a finger in judgement. You know the people I am talking about, the ones who would have judged Christ himself “How could the son of GOD make water into wine?!?!”. Get used to it and try your best not to let it get to you. If you want to wear thigh high boots and mini skirts because it makes you feel beautiful, do it. If having platinum blonde hair extensions makes you feel sexy and attractive, wear them. If you like how your eyes look while wearing false eyelashes, apply them and bat away. If you like to read erotica and it helps you and your better half have a more intimate relationship in and out of the bedroom, read away. If judging others floats your boat, row away. Far, far away.