Pretty Woman

Pretty woman, don't walk on by
Pretty woman, don't make me cry
Pretty woman, don't walk away, hey, okay

If that's the way it must be, okay
I guess I'll go on home, it's late
There'll be tomorrow night, but wait

What do I see
Is she walking back to me
Yeah, she's walking back to me

Oh, oh, pretty woman

The movie Pretty Woman was on television last night.  He's Just Not That Into You was on television last night.  And a bunch of documentaries about sex were on television last night.  I kept flipping back and forth between the three channels.  Nevermind I've seen Pretty Woman 50+ times and nevermind that I own the DVD of He's Just Not That Into You.

I learned that scientists are amazed that women can "think" themselves into an orgasm.  I don't know why this was so amazing to them.  Haven't they ever heard of fantasizing?  As I watched the shows, I kept asking myself, "Who are the people who actually volunteer to have sex in an MRI machine so that images can be captured of the sex act?"  Then, I thought to myself, "Probably the same people who are willing to sell plasma for money." (Like me.  Soon.  As soon as I feel healthy.)

Pretty Woman is one of my all-time favorite movies.  I saw it when I was in college with my friends Rodney and Janelle.  It became "our" movie until Rodney and I annoyed Janelle so much with our quoting of the lines that she refused to watch it with us anymore.  Then, it became Rodney and my movie. (I almost typed "my's".  Ack, what's next?  Mines???)  I owned it on VHS and whenever we were bored, we'd just grab the movie and watch it.  We would quote the lines beginning to end.  We even knew what songs were gonna play when and could point out editing mistakes. (Like the fact that Vivian takes a bite out of a pancake, then the camera pans to Edward and then back to Vivian and she is taking the same bite out of the same pancake again, instead of a second bite out of the pancake.)  Every now and then, we'd stop and look at each other and say, "Who does it work out for?" and then say in unison, "Cinderfuckingrella."  We cracked each other up.  No one will watch the movie with us anymore.  We've ruined it for everyone.  I keep hoping to find someone just as dorky locally who will sit and tear it apart with me, but, alas, I think this is just not going to happen.

It's still "our" movie and every time it is on, we feel the need to alert each other.  It was on a couple of Fridays ago and we adorkably texted each other lines from the movie across thousands of miles until my cell phone battery died.  It was like watching the movie together.

There's this one scene in the movie that always chokes me up.  Vivian and Edward are lying in bed, facing each other and talking.  Edward tells Vivian that she is a bright, very special woman.  She says that if people put you down enough, you start to believe it.  "The bad stuff is easier to believe. You ever notice that?"

The moral of the story is that hookers are hookers because someone made them feel badly about themselves at a poignant time in their lives and therefore they have low self esteem and believe that they can't amount to anything except hooking.  Until a rich, attractive emotionally unavailable business man comes trolling for directions and ends up with the love of his life.   She wants to be rescued but she also wants to rescue him, too.  The ending line of the movie:  "She rescues him right back."

Over the years, depending on what kind of mood I'm in when I watch the movie, I flip flop from feeling all warm and fuzzy  (Who wouldn't want some attractive wealthy man to save them from themselves? They were destined to meet and help each other.  She makes him less stuffy.  He helps her be more refined. He enjoys life.  She enjoys him.  Ah, ain't love grand?) to cynical. (She'd never last in his world.  She'll always feel uncomfortable, no matter how many designer dresses she has in her closet.  He'll eventually grow to resent that she is not of his caliber and breeding and will cheat on her with someone more his class.  She'll take to drinking, drugs and whoring.  They'll break up, but because of an air-tight pre-nup, she'll get nothing and be back at Carlos' door begging him to let her do BJs in the back alley.)

Last night, I was in the cynical mood.  So, that's why I kept flipping to He's Just Not That Into You.  I'm so "GiGi" in that movie.  But, the cynical mood carried over to that movie as well and I got mad at GiGi for making a complete fool out of herself with her male friend Alex, misled by her friends assuring her that he wanted more than friendship.  I wished I could send GiGi and Vivian shopping.  I think that's why I eventually ended up watching the sex documentaries.  That's basic.  No romance there.  In and out, In and out.  Ooh. Aaah.  Take a shower.  (OK, so I'm still in the somewhat cynical mood. I blame PMS and not winning the Powerball.)

Back to the self-esteem thing.

Last week, when I was home from work, sick and mopey, lying on the couch watching every talk show known to man, I watched a Dr. Oz show about morbidly obese women. There was a psychologist who made a sweeping statement that all morbidly obese women are that way because at some point in their life, someone said to them in word or in action that they were worthless, and they believed it and "gave up on themselves".  He went down the line, getting in each woman's face, asking her "Who made you this way?"  It was a tough love bullying technique and each woman started crying at some point, even the ones who swore "no one" made them feel worthless.

So, not only does self esteem make people turn to hooking, it also makes you fat.  So, why aren't there more fat hookers?  Hell, if that's the case, why didn't I turn to a life of fat hooking?

Now, someone did tell me I was worthless when I was younger, in both word and action.  I'm sure it made a major impact on my psyche.  However, I was chubby as a child.  I started to get chubby around 4th grade and kept right on going.  It wasn't until after I started to get fat that my dad started to insinuate I was worthless.  My parents didn't force feed me fast food.  In fact, my mother prepared a home-cooked meal every night.  Now, they weren't always super healthy home-made meals.  We ate a lot of starchy foods and comfort foods.  But, who knew?  I was very active as a kid.  I was always outside playing, riding my bike, doing all kinds of stuff.  I should have been as thin as my beanpole brother was, but I wasn't. He ate the same foods.  He did the same activities.  I got round.  He got tall and thin.  Bastard.

The whole TV show made me mad.  For the most part, I think I have a fairly decent self esteem.  I don't try to use my weight as an excuse for not doing things unless it is truly a hindrance (like riding amusement park rides or fitting into one airplane seat).  I get down on myself every now and then. I like to blame my weight for the lack of true love in my life. (That's easier than accepting that maybe my personality needs tweaking.)  I'm not entirely in love with myself at the moment, but I'm working on it.  

However, do I feel that I'm keeping myself fat because of some bad stuff from 30 years or so ago?  No.  I've made my peace in my head with my dad.  He was raised in an abusive household and is not a touchy-feely kind of man.  I was daddy's little girl when I was a little girl.  However, I grew up and when I grew up, things changed.  He treated me differently.  He had different expectations for me.  He felt I should get married and have kids.  I wanted to go to college.  He would make fun of me to try to motivate me to lose weight, but I'd dig my heels in and refuse to give in to him and wanted to prove that I could be a success despite being overweight.  I've been through therapy.  I understand that I can't change the past or him.  My way of controlling the situation is to not put myself into direct contact with him any more than I have to.  I don't go home often.  I don't give him the power to hurt me.

I am the reason why I am overweight.  I get in my own way.  I pick and choose the voices in my head I want to listen to.  I choose what foods I eat.  I choose the amount of exercise I do.  I wish one of those women would have had the balls to look that doctor in the eye and tell him to F off because blaming other people doesn't make anything go away.  It doesn't make it any easier to be overweight or try to not be overweight anymore.

I read an article in Cosmo this morning about "faking it until you make it."

I am on this self improvement journey and I've been telling everyone loud and clear that I'm going to be fierce.  What that exactly means, I'm not sure.  I do know it means not making excuses anymore.  Not allowing my perception of myself or anyone else's perception of myself stand in the way of my success. It means that men will look at me and not past me. Women will not dismiss me as less than them. The article suggests that we stop focusing on "when" and start acting right now the way we want others to see us.  Instead of saying, "I am going to be ....." (insert whatever positive word you can think of), we need to be overconfident right now.  Not cocky.  Not arrogant.   Just "it". 

So, instead of telling everyone how fierce I'm going to be, I should already have the thought in my mind that I am fierce.  I am sexy.  I am worthy of love.  Not "going to be".  Not "will be".  I AM.  I AM. I AM.

I am my own rescuer.

I am the pretty woman.

I am fierce.

Everyday is so wonderful
Then suddenly, it's hard to breathe
Now and then, i get insecure
From all the pain, i'm so ashamed

But I am beautiful no matter what they say
Words can't bring me down
I am beautiful in every single way
Yes, words can't bring me down,
Oh no, so don't you bring me down today