Am I Creating a Monster?

Briefly, before I forget – I wanted to check in that I did buy a ‘basic black dress’ and a tunic from my 10 Things I “Must Have” in My Closet list. I had a dress that didn’t fit well (Peter Walsh would have frowned on this, no?) that I gave to charity when we moved and what I’ve been wearing and proudly calling a tunic has been given the thumbs down by a friend. She told me it was not a tunic, but instead a “really big shirt” and that it should go immediately to Goodwill. Sigh. I’ve replaced these items with new ones and while I’m glad I can re-slash these items off my list, I’m slightly queasy about the spending. And I’m wondering who the fashion god is that decides what women MUST wear and why Oprah feels as if spreading the word of the Deity of Skirt Length and What Color is the New Black is important enough to devote endless shows to the topic. And I also have to wonder how she would prioritize the following list for me in order of importance:
1. Decluttering
2. Dressing in the popular fashion
3. Budgeting
4. Being true to myself
5. Not allowing my ‘things’ to define me
6. Her Favorite Things

I’m also wondering why I felt so sickeningly good when I tried on those clothes. Before this project, shopping was akin to a bikini wax…a rreeallllly slow bikini wax. Was my lack of desire for new, trendy clothing really a display of low self-esteem as Oprah and her guests might have you believe? Or was I already living my truth: I just didn’t care about the clothes. Why does a lack of excitement over clothing translate to a lack of self-respect or sense of worth? Maybe I just didn’t feel the need to embellish. Or maybe it was a combination of all of the above. If it sounds to you like my trip to Marshall’s left me with scrambled eggs for brains, you might be right. Thank goodness we decided against going to TJ Maxx afterwards or I might have needed sedation.

And now (drums roll, trumpets blare) a special new segment while I am away at the yoga retreat. I’m calling it FIVE WAYS OPRAH AND I ARE ALIKE.

Since I have spent so much time reflecting on how I cannot relate to Oprah, while I am at Scoliosis Camp, I’m going to think of something each day that connects me to the Queen of Talk. Off limits is weight. I’ve already covered this ad nauseum in earlier posts. Today’s topic is something that has affected me only quite recently, since Living Oprah has grown in popularity. Y’all would be shocked to read the slew of requests that have poured in since the article in Chicago Reader and the interview on All Things Considered (this is where I’d add links, but my mom, who is typing this for me, probably doesn’t know how…mom, if you can figure it out, would you do this? I love you!). I’ve been asked to endorse products, support strangers’ causes, and join in schemes to allow others to capitalize on the Living Oprah project. Wha-?! I’m laughing as I reflect on this because I want to tell people that not only do I have no special expertise to assist them but I’m just a normal girl with about 1 week’s worth of publicity more than they’ve had. No one will want to hear my endorsement. I mean, I’ve worn a bathing suit top as a bra to work because I’ve run out of clean laundry. Trust me, I’m no spokesperson.

However, I wish I could help everyone. They all seem so nice and some of them are really trying to do some good in the world. There’s just not enough time in my day or money in my pocket to be of assistance. And this is how I can feel some kinship to Oprah (and yes, I know it is a very distant relationship…something like 16th cousins by marriage). Oprah must receive, oh, a GAZILLION requests for all sorts of help on a daily basis. How can she weed through the mire? I think that’s where her personal assistant and unlisted email address come in handy. Still, how does she decide where to put her already taxed energy? And also, if she is constantly bombarded by people begging for help with their relationships, finances, careers, health, etc, do you think she might expect EVERYONE wants something from her? If I were put in her shoes (her Christian Louboutin shoes which, I might add, are not sold at Marshalls), I might put up some pretty high walls, too, and look at each stranger as a prospective vacuum of my time, energy, money and emotion.

This has been today’s installment of HOW OPRAH AND I ARE ALIKE. Stay tuned, I’m going to think of another one by tomorrow. This could be tough. Why on earth did I take weight-struggles off the table?