Thursday, April 25, 2013
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Two M's That Really Don't Go Together
From Master’s Degree to Modeling
While this isn’t an advocacy piece for Tina Fey’s most recent book, “Bossy Pants,” I would highly suggest reading it. The section she discusses fitness and being thin—it’s accurate, and funny. I found it to be true, right after I finished my stint as an academic.
I had always been relatively fit. I guess it might even have something to do with my high school boyfriend who was a football player and body builder. He made me realize at a young age how much control you can feel just by working out.
After high school, I got my bachelors degree in journalism and quick—in under three years. I was dead tired by the end and working with adults who had children and were married. I felt out of place and frustrated with feeling so young and so stressed. I moved cities and told my parents I was going to waitress. All I wanted was to be around kids my own age—in their early 20s, switching shifts and gossiping about dating whenever they had the chance.
I didn’t last a year though before my brains were starved for intellectual stimulation. I applied to get my masters degree and eighteen months later I found myself finished again, in under the regular amount of time for this program and ready for work—or so I thought.
I spent hours and hours each night watching Friends reruns online and applying for jobs. I even had some bites from cool places like the Associated Press and working for a Senator on Capitol Hill in D.C.—nothing came through though and I found myself anxious and confused.
I had worked so hard and done everything well—I couldn’t understand why my path wasn’t more obvious.
Late one night, I sent some pictures into a call from a modeling agency for fitness models. I had taught aerobics as a part time job throughout the years and recently lost a lot of weight—a boyfriend had dumped me when we were planning a wedding—then asked to try again—and dumped me all over. I had also had surgery that year (the results of a running injury) and food and socializing had lost all its appeal. I figured I might as well try—and earn some money.
The agency responded in less than 24 hours and my skepticism set in. Once I realized they were legitimate, I went in. I felt like a failure though; an academic gone model? My sisters and mother were intellects, one of whom which had her PhD in psychology.
I needed the money though and thought maybe it could make me feel proud of myself again. I wasn’t unaware of the fact that some girls would die to be fitness models, I just wasn’t one of them. The cliché idea that we always want what we couldn’t be or have was never so painful.
I came to a realization the night before a big shoot: it didn’t matter what anyone thought or how impressed or jealous they were—I was never going to feel good until I was okay with who I was. And a big part of that was just accepting myself.
I found similar patterns from my career choices in my dating life, like Julia Roberts in Runaway Bride—only liking the kind of eggs her fiancé of the week did.
I began a journey to discover who it was I really am. It’s harder than it sounds and every activity I participated in I wanted to hashtag #identitycrisis.
I think the point to life isn’t just progressing and impressing, but identifying and serving. It’s about finding your purpose and contributing to what life is all about: human connection.
My happiness wasn’t based on the job I got or the likes on Instagram, but the peace I felt in being proud and confident in who I knew I was.
If you don’t know or struggle with who you are, I found it was easiest to start with who I knew I WASN’T. The confidence built and my knowledge of what I wanted solidified—funny how things started falling into place.
Friday, April 5, 2013
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