Dove, Doors, and WHO AM I, REALLY?

Complete the following quote from the popular musical, West Side Story:

"I feel ______!" 

A. Pretty

B. Average

C. Pretty average

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You've probably seen at least one of Dove's Real Beauty Campaign videos: The one in which a rather typical looking woman is transformed (by means of multiple stylists, cosmetic products, and some Photoshop magic) into the sort of model we would normally see in advertising, or this depiction of women describing their own looks versus the much more positively described perceptions of others. I just saw their new segment involving a couple of signs (“Beautiful” and “Average”) labeling doors, and women choosing which door they enter. As would be expected, many women did not identify as “Beautiful,” and as such, chose to walk through the door marked “Average.” This simple act was foisted as a tragedy. I disagree.

While I agree that women should love themselves, I actually don't see feeling beautiful as a requirement to loving one's self. I certainly don't believe them to be synonymous. There is also the curious observation that my healthy perceptions of my own beauty are often indicative of the way I feel about myself overall, though not necessarily the other way around.

I'm not disputing the claim that we are all beautiful; I whole-heartedly support this idea. But in a world of such beautiful individuals, I believe the average (if we could model such objective concepts mathematically) to still be . . . beautiful. I find it perfectly acceptable that I identify with the status quo in a world where the standard level of loveliness is so high.

Besides, if there were multiple entry options, which door would each of us choose? Given my wide range of talents, abilities, and strengths (I've deactivated my sarcasm, so take me seriously!) I would not simplify my “me-ness” to be my outer shell—beautiful as it may be. Is that okay? Well, I'm okay with it, and around here, I make the rules. What I truly think and feel about myself when I'm alone is far more significant than an arbitrary door chosen when others were looking. A more telling choice than a publicly declared “Average” or “Beautiful” may be a privately determined “Beautiful,” “Compassionate,” “Creative,” “Intelligent,” (etc.) “All of the Above,” or “None of the Above.” Or, we could get right down to the heart of what we want to know—“Love myself,” or “What's there to love?”

This gets a bit deeper and grittier than the previously selected euphemisms, but if our goal is truly to find struggling women and help them feel good about themselves, why pretend? Let's do be real: If we want to make a change, there are more lasting and substantial ways to boost girls' and women's self-esteem levels (or, you know, anyone's—regardless of age or gender). Must all of our lifting be based on [feelings about] appearances? Let's sink our foundation deeper than that.

So we feel that our looks are average, or perhaps we think we're beautiful: Let us all walk through that door with confidence. I'm okay with whatever I may see when I look in the mirror because I know I am more than can be seen. With my average looks, my wit that exceeds expectations, and my satisfactory-level intelligence and kindness (among many other positive traits), I think I comprise a rather enjoyable package. I love me, and would invite you to do the same for yourself—regardless of the doors you may be walking through.

Hello! I'm a Conservative Christian. Let Me Tell You What I Really Believe.

So, I'm getting a little tired of having various internet memes tell me what I believe and how I live my life. Mostly because they tend to be wrong. Occasionally, when I run across one with a particularly amusing punchline, I read it and snort before getting on with my life. Unfortunately, most of the memes describing “my lifestyle” that I encounter are just offensive to me. The other day I saw a meme with a caption saying something to the effect of “I'm a Conservative Christian and I believe in the sanctity of marriage. So do four out of my five previous husbands.” I didn't laugh when I read this one. Instead, I got a bit upset and cried some angry tears because I feel like I am being misrepresented on the internet—along with many others who share my similar values. You may say, “Well, yeah, but that's because you're part of the group. If you were on the opposing side of the fence, you would find it funny like the rest of us.

Would I?

The whole point of me telling you this is to tell you that I, as someone who identifies as a “conservative Christian,” am an individual. A real person. And at the risk of sounding too much like an episode of Sesame Street, it makes me sad when people aren't nice to me. Actually, it makes me sad when people aren't nice—whether I'm the victim or not. So, don't give me this crap about “The tables being turned,” and “How do I like it?” because although I have my beliefs, I DON'T HATE GAY PEOPLE. I don't post memes ridiculing people who are different from me, and I don't sit around in my spare time thinking of all the reasons I think they are going to Hell. In fact, I don't even believe in Hell in thetraditional sense, and the person I most frequently condemn is myself. I don't enjoy it when anybody is mocked and ridiculed, whether they believe as I do or not!

Yes, I'm a Christian. A member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—you may more readily recognize the term Mormon. I also happen to lean to the right politically. I do value the sanctity of marriage. I understand there are many who oppose my viewpoint. If you are one of them, that's okay. I think you're wrong. But I also know that you think that I'm wrong. The issue I'm concerned with here is not who is right and who is wrong (because I think we'll find that at the end of the day, we each believe the other is wrong, no matter what is said). My concern here is that yes, we disagree. Now what?

I suppose we could continue to create and share fallacious memes that illustrate why the opposite view is stupid in addition to being wrong, but I'm personally getting tired of the same old arguments. Yes, sometimes heterosexual marriages end in divorce. I think this is unfortunate. But (forgive me, you'll have to step inside my religiously extremist mind here—try not to judge too harshly!) I don't believe two wrongs make a right. Divorce, like marriage, is a choice. And while some people may be making the choice of “serial monogamy,” I am not one of them. When I say that marriage is something that I hold sacred, this means that in addition to viewing marriage as between a man and a woman, I was particularly careful while searching for my own spouse. My grandma used to tell me that most girls are more selective of their prom dresses than their husbands. I was not about to be one of those girls. Because I view marriage as special, it's not a relationship I was willing to enter into with just anybody. I kept looking until I finally found someone I believed was worthy to be called my husband. Now that we have found each other, we are doing all we can to ensure that our marriage lasts. So please, don't lump me into a group that believes that divorce is a natural result of marriage. I'm putting a lot of work into this relationship called marriage, and I find it hurtful when others cavalierly come along and tell me I'm going to fail when they don't even know my husband and me.

But lets talk about something that many of those on “my side” have been guilty of. Like the idea that heterosexual people have a monopoly on the pursuit of happiness—particularly where relationships and family are concerned. “Gay people shouldn't get married or adopt because they can't have kids naturally.” You've probably heard that one at least a few times. I don't like it because I don't think that inability to reproduce “naturally” is something to rub anyone's nose in. You probably find the “gay people shouldn't have kids because they aren't good parents” line of reasoning to be as repulsive and distasteful as I find the “religious right-wingers are all hateful people who deserve their multiple divorces” logic—because it's a sweeping generalization that's wrong. Those people I know who identify as homosexual would make great parents if the opportunity came their way. It would seem to me, that the pain that comes to those individuals who are unable to marry or have a family for reasons related to sexual orientation is just as real as that of any single person who is unable to realize their need for intimacy or any couple longing for a child. We should stop mocking the sadness associated with these circumstances—regardless of the sexual orientation of those involved.

The debate over whether or not homosexuals should be able to marry is a sensitive one with very personal ramifications for both sides. It is a discussion that should be had civilly—which civility is typically lacking in internet memes. By all means, post factual sources that support your cause. Electronically share your beliefs—I will be. Just please, as you do your best to tell others how you feel about controversial issues, leave the memes out of it. This is a delicate subject with actual people on both sides, and we can't be fully represented by such sweeping generalizations.

Would you, could you, in a box?

I have a confession to make: when I worked at the institute, I would take things from the office. Don't panic—I had permission. I wasn't stealing; I was bringing home cardboard boxes.

I love boxes.

My first memory of my love of boxes comes when I was just little—probably three or so, I'm not sure. I just know that it was when the general store (“Old Clove's,” to my family) still had some sort of refrigerated shelving like you would have for meats and cheeses on the west wall, and I know for sure it was before my family moved to Moab and back. I turned four in Moab, so . . . I was pretty young.

ANYWAY, I had a small box that my mom had given me. It was small and flat—the kind with the removable lid that jewelry sometimes comes in. For the day that I had it I carried it everywhere with me and made great plans to find the perfect thing to use it for. Sometimes I put stuff in and took it out, but mostly I just carried this empty box with me. Until we went to Clove's and I lost it in the aforementioned shelving. I was devastated. My mom was unsympathetic. I did not recover my treasured box. Perhaps I've spent my entire life looking to replace it.

You never know when you'll need a box. They are incredibly useful when it comes to organizing things. If Alex and I weren't “poor college students,” I would have those fancy organizational boxes. But we're not, so I don't. That's okay. My bathroom shelves are in order thanks to some well-placed ramen noodle boxes. I keep my sheet music in a shoebox that I covered in old music. I use a blender box as a trash can in Melody's room. I load my closets with various boxes labeled to match their contents. It's a good system.

What's not a good system is the series of boxes that contain unsorted items that I'm not sure where to put them. So I put them in boxes and pretend that they are taken care of. Sure, I'll make it around to going through the boxes and sorting them into more boxes and eventually assigning them a permanent place, but in the meantime they merely provide a false sense of organization and a hiding place for my clutter.

I like boxes. Literally and figuratively. After all, isn't it “hip to be square”?

I need a bit of structure. You may have noticed that many, if not all, of my titles are some sort of recycling of other people's words. Cliches are my Achilles' heel (See? I can't even explain my feelings about cliches without using one!). I write “To do” lists and routines, if only to disregard them. I've been seen as a “good little Mormon girl” who has grown up to be a stay-at-home mom (with a blog, no less!) and I've tried to live up to many of the expectations that have come with those titles. The result: I take the traits and qualities that I've developed, re-box them, and give them a label that I find acceptable while discarding the less helpful clutter that comes with stereotypes.

“Boxes” have given me a way to put my thoughts and beliefs in order. And it works for me—as long as I don't use them as a permanent, disorganized catch-all. However, I have tried to keep some boxes that weren't benefiting me. I still have some. The good news is that I usually try to trade out worn boxes or boxes that are the wrong size for more sturdy boxes that better serve my purposes. And sometimes I just have to donate an entire box and its contents to the DI.

It drove Alex crazy right after we had moved to have me bringing home empty paper boxes from work. “Don't you already have boxes? Aren't you getting rid of boxes?” What he didn't understand, no matter how I explained it to him, was that these boxes were everything I wanted in a box. These were going to help me organize more permanently than the boxes I already had, so I was upgrading.

My Great-grandpa Farnsworth gave me some advice the last time I saw him before he passed away. “You don't have to pick up everything you come across, you know?”

Oh, I know. So when I do find something worth keeping, I put it in a nice box and label it.