Just say NO to Leggings

I opened my gmail account to find a bolded advertisement from Spiegel for their hot sale on Leggings! I'm still having a hard time believing they are coming back in to our fashion consciousness and now they're on sale?? I'll admit I tried the cute little legging with an oversized shirt back in the 80's (where they still belong in my opinion). Problem was my "cute little leggings" ended up looking like to overstuffed sausage casings with little elastic frizz (from the spandex actually breaking) all over. And the only thing oversized about the shirt was the person who was wearing it!

There are so few people on this earth who can pull this look off, even the rail thin models in Spiegel have enough sense to leave the look to the pages of their catalog and not take it to the streets. I believe salespeople have not only the right, but the obligation to stop women from making this irreversible fashion mistake (once you've been seen in leggings that image is forever burned in to the memories of those who witnessed). There should be a mandatory 360 review by a panel of no less than 3 people--can't be friends or family--to assess the possible damage one could do to ones' image by sporting such a catastrophic look. If so much as one dimple of cellulite swallows the legging fabric, run do not walk, back to your dressing room and put back on the baggy sweatpants you came in wearing!

The Last Breath

How many of us have taken CPR/First-Aid courses with the thoughts that we'd never actually have to call upon those skills. I know that was my thought. Well, the worst happened! On Monday 12/28/09 I was in Oregon for the holidays and my sister took me to my niece's brand new condo for me to see before I left back for Boston. She had not yet moved in and was in the process of having new flooring put in. As I entered I bumped in to a guy (he was one of the construction crew) I went to High School with (he was 3 yrs older than I) and had close ties to other members of my family. We spoke briefly and I went on to get my tour. Within 10 minutes his colleague came running in yelling that we needed 911 as "Nelson" was having a heart attack. I didn't think it was real at first, he was in great shape and just 49 years old, but it quickly became all to clear it was very real. My sister Laura and I ran full speed outside to find him keeled over in the back of the construction truck definitely having a heart attack. We both jumped in to the back of the truck and without uttering a word to each other she immediately went to begin chest compressions and I went straight to clear the airway and rescue breathing. It's been at least 10 years since either of us have been certified, but it was unbelievable how the training just came back to us.

We worked on him for at least 10 minutes before the paramedics got there, but I knew we were losing him. I actually remember feeling I took his last breath. Once the medics got there they moved him off the ground and had my sis and I continue working on him while they got set up, so at least we must have been doing something right. My sister was pulled off first as she was tiring quickly from the chest compressions. I was handed the "bag" and continued giving him air that way. Once I was finally pulled off the reality hit me. Though I was not personally close to him I had an intimate interaction with him in trying to save his life. Sadly, the outcome was unfavorable.

It's been exactly one week and I have still not come to grips with what occurred. I would have done the same thing if I had it to do over, but I can't help but second guess myself--did I give him enough breath or did I not get his airway clear enough? The Dr assured my sister and I that we did all we could do and everything correct, but I find little comfort in that as I think about the people who are now mourning a fun-loving, good-hearted man taken all to soon.

I'm now back in Boston and just can't get his face out of my head. I stared directly in his eyes, I felt him take his last breath (which in all reality was probably just my air coming back up). My mouth was filled with his vomit as we aspirated him (and managed not to throw-up until the paramedics took over).

I hope that if he was out of his body, as some believe, that as he watched over us he knew we were really, really trying to bring him back. At the very least I find some comfort that he was not alone and was surrounded by people who knew him and genuinely cared about him, including his best-friend---God I remember how in shock he was as he watched his BF dying, I'll never forget the look on that poor man's face I know how helpless he felt, but he knew my sister and I were doing all we could. He actually has called us "heroes" yet to me a hero would have had a different outcome. I feel guilty, so guilty. Guilty that he died, guilty that I am having such a hard time with it as I really didn't know him as well as others.

I know the chances of lightening striking twice are highly unlikely, but just in case, I will be getting re-certified in Mike Nelson's honor and memory. Rest in Peace sweet man!

A re-post of my column from Aug 2004

Hag Journal: Once a “grooms” maid…

Aug/September

All Rights Reserved Mollie Worcester-Worrell

On July 27, 2003 I had the distinct pleasure of being an attendant at one of my very best friend’s wedding. Come to think of it, this was the first time I had ever been in a wedding (excluding the two in which I was the bride). In retrospect, this particular ceremony would represent several “firsts”. When I told my parents that I was to going be in a “Gay/Jewish” wedding the day before their own 52^nd anniversary, my mom, Lois, simply responded, “I don’t think you’ve ever been to a Jewish Ceremony”. She was right. Another first, (not the first time she was right, but, rather, that I had never been to a Jewish ceremony). My sister, Laura, a lifelong banker who secretly channels Martha Stewart (pre-controversy of course), was hired to do the floral arrangements. The couple wanted simple, yet elegant arrangements using an array of white flowers, not an unusual request for a wedding. Aside from ignorant dip shits each thinking they were the only to ask me “how do you know who’s the bride and who’s the groom?” the preparations were just like any other wedding.

When I first met Aaron, he was with a different partner. Most of us know the struggle of finding “the one”. In Aaron’s case, the guy he was with, though not a bad person, simply was not on his level. Conversely, it was immediately apparent that Aaron and David (or Dr. Dave as he is known in our inner circle) were/are meant to be together. I was not at all surprised to learn that they chose to formally solidify their union. At the time, Oregon did not recognize gay marriages. Even now, despite issuing licenses and performing more than 3,000 same sex marriage ceremonies in the uncertain months leading up to the senate vote on the now ill-fated federal proposal for a ban on gay marriages, it is under some scrutiny. Oregon’s gay-marriages are for the moment, in legal limbo; the Court of Appeals has ordered the marriages to be recorded, but the State Attorney General refuses to do so pending the outcome of a ballot measure this November. Last July, my friends entered a “domestic partnership” in their county, a simple registration that could be entered in to by either homo or heterosexuals. So, in reality, the “wedding” we were planning was technically called a “commitment ceremony”, but for God’s sake if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck well, it’s a damn duck!!!! I don’t think any of us participating in this event anticipated becoming a part of history that day. Standing in front of 350 loving relatives and friends, Aaron and David were the first same sex couple to receive a traditional ceremony held in the main sanctuary of the beautiful Beth Israel Temple in Portland. Not without its own place in history, Beth Israel Temple is the oldest reform congregation in the Pacific Northwest. Adding another first to this momentous occasion, the ceremony was performed by Rabbi Kim Stoloff (now Rosen) and Rabbi Emmanuel Rose, making it the first gay ceremony performed by Rabbi Rose in his 43-year history. **Mollie’s thought bubble: gay, Jewish marriage ceremony with a female Rabbi… yep, this is definitely one for the books!

I remember wondering before the ceremony if I would get as emotional as I typically do at weddings, but standing there with the other attendants, witnessing Aaron and David pledge their unconditional love and commitment to one another with such incredible emotion, abiding devotion and undeniable passion, I quietly wept with joy. Who wouldn’t?

Aaron and Dr. Dave just celebrated their 1^st anniversary, and what a busy year it’s been. Three months following the July 27 ceremony, the couple crossed the Canadian border and was legally married in Vancouver, British Columbia, making their union recognized across a large portion of North America and nearly all of the countries that recognize Canadian marriages, except, (hello!!!), the U.S. Then in March 2004, Multnomah County in Oregon joined Massachusetts and San Francisco in issuing marriage licenses for same sex couples. Aaron and Dr. Dave again said their “I do’s” before Rabbi Rosen.

As I write this, I am surrounded by pictures of this incredible day one year ago. I would have been thrilled to simply be a guest, but to have been asked to stand with my friend on this special day is something for which I will always be grateful. In a world filled with terror, hatred and uncertainty why wouldn’t everybody on the planet rejoice when a couple, any couple, find one another and commit to each other in love. For those who espouse such clever edicts as “it was Adam and Eve, not Adam and Adam or Eve and Eve” GET A LIFE. Surely there must be something more productive you can do with your time than to engage in reckless hyperbole. Learn to knit, join a gym, take part in adopt a homosexual day… whatever!! I’m not suggesting you be gay (though the original definition of the word is “to be merry, keenly alive or exuberant”, chew on that for a minute), I am only asking that you allow all people, regardless of whom they choose as a life partner, the same rights you enjoy and expect! Now that would be a very welcomed first.

I recently asked Aaron to reflect on some of his memories of his wedding. He wrote this: “Finally when the last load was picked up (referring to the three truckloads of bounty they received), I headed down Flanders street towards downtown and our hotel. In a true "Sex in the City" moment, a half a block down on the sidewalk, I came across a stem of the beautiful white orchids that you and your sister had put together for our celebration. I picked it up, and carried it on the quiet 15-block walk towards the river. It seemed like an appropriate memento of a day filled with celebration with friends, of beauty and thoughtfulness... of community, and of love”.

Simple, yet elegant and loaded with firsts.

Great Expectations

I chose the rather poignant quote from french author Anais Nin to be the title of my blog because it seems so very relevant. In today's world where society puts so many faces and expectations on what a true woman is---wife, mother, lover, professional, daughter, sister, friend, mentor, caretaker (to name only a few), I find myself wondering if this is really society's expectations or really my own self-imposed and overly ambitious expectations for myself. The truth in knowing I have failed in at least two (wife and mother) leaves me believing that I have failed them all thus I am left questioning have I become a woman?

Can one not achieve all things associated with what is stereotypical "womanly" and still proudly wear the title? This is my struggle. Fresh from off my second divorce, I find it is not the failure to be the wife that consumes me. Though troublesome that I have yet to find and keep lasting love, I am confidant that I am a reasonably good wife, though true that could be argued. It is the lack of motherhood that has me questioning my "Womaness". You see I have lost several babies, 3 of whom I had to actually birth and hold and say goodbye to. I suppose this in some sense makes me a mother, yet I have nothing to show for it, no college tuition (or bail money---you never know how they'll turn out do you), no first loves (and heartbreaks), weddings or grandchildren to look forward to. So much I've missed out on and yet in turn I gained a fabulous career, one I would not have had had my children lived. This may be why I can't see myself as successful because the cost of this success was so great. I have yet to reconcile this within myself.

Without knowing if I am truly a "woman" (recognizing that that term for me means mother) I realize this may be why I sabotage relationships---with friends, with family, with potential life partners. It seems so clear to me as I write this and yet it's as if someone else is having this clarity.

How do I change my own definition of "woman" to fit who I have become? That is the secret to it all now isn't it. How do I accept that the person I am may not be what I expected I'd be, but I can consider myself a woman none the less. Perhaps this is what Ms. Nin meant. If we were all born women we'd be the same, but by becoming women this is what makes us each unique and it is that diversity which bonds us.

A new year is upon us

I don't typically make New Year's resolutions, but I think I'll break with tradition and make a few this year! The first is to put the horror of the last 18 months behind me and I mean "eat my dust" behind me. The second is to not hide behind the trauma of the last 18 months (which includes losing my beloved brother-in-law to a horrible motorcycle accident, rapidly followed by the collapse of my own marriage which culminated in my husband trying to kill me for which he was convicted of all charges, the subsequent divorce and financial ruin). The third is to face each day with the knowledge that I am a strong woman, a survivor and that I am bigger than the challenges life throws at me and I need to find the glory in the little victories that each day presents even if I have to count letting someone cut in front of me in traffic without using their blinker as a victory, it's something. The fourth is to get back to my roots and that is writing---who knows where that may lead. I write mostly because it is therapeutic, but maybe I can finally get my freelancing off and running. SO dear reader, assuming their is a dear reader, I start with a blog! Now why would I expect in a world of digital media where their are literally millions of blogs someone will not only stumble across mine and then dream of dreams, like what I have to say or relate to me in some way? Well that brings me to resolution number five---Hope followed by Belief! When I really think about it so much of what I do is hope, but what I fail to do is believe that my hopes will come to fruition. I am now at the mercy of the universe, putting myself out there into cyberspace hoping someone, and I'll be thrilled with just one person, will find my ramblings interesting. If you've gotten this far in this post, then maybe my hope is paying off.

I don't know what topics I will place here but I do know they will be truthful and relevant to whatever may be going on with me at the time. Sometimes I may offer advice, sometimes I may ask for it. It could be a post about a shitty day, or good one. My dogs, Penelopie and Charlie, will make frequent appearances as they are my lifeline, my tie to reality. Other characters may pop in and out as necessary, but mostly I will be self-indulgent and write about my feelings and/or current situations.

So here goes, my first post! It may not be world peace, but it's something!