The Weight: Guest Post by Allison Greene

 I am so happy to introduce you all to one of my absolute favorite people and someone I am so grateful to call friend, Allison Greene. I have known Allison forever from "back in the day" old Asheville and we have shared many similar paths since then. This post is about weight, an issue that SO many of us ladies grapple with and one that I am currently in battle with. Allison's candor in this post is so appreciated and I hope you all will enjoy.
XO Morgan

The Weight by Allison Greene

So I lost some weight...ok a lot of weight...an impressive amount. Impressive especially because I wasn't trying to lose weight at all...mind blowing because I have been “trying to lose weight” for most of my life, and only lost it when I gave up, sort of.

I thought I would go ahead and try to take a stab at explaining how I did it, or rather how I didn't do it, because I get asked A LOT. Usually by women that knew the “before” me and are shocked by the smaller version of me that they are encountering these days. Its almost a formula at this point it happens so often. Nice lady sees me out in the world, notices the weight loss and says something kind (usually.) “You've lost weight, you look great!” or “Whoa! You've lost some weight, haven't you? Good for you!” Then comes the inevitable question “how did you do it?” Then they all get this glassy eyed look on their face waiting to memorize whatever slim inducing wisdom I'm about to bestow upon them. What follows is a look of total disinterest, or disbelief when I say I didn't really “do” anything.

I know, it has to be hard, miserable, joy robbing work to lose weight. I was a card carrying member of this belief system for MY ENTIRE LIFE so I don't begrudge the skepticism. I also have stopped telling people that tapeworms were the culprit, or that I keep it really hot in my house. Sorry, I didn't know what to do with all the new attention, and my sense of humor is a little warped.

So here's what happened. I struggled with weight since I was eight years old. When I was eight I had some big life stuff happen, and it was a little too much for the eight year old brain I was working with. So I found food. It helped me not feel all that stuff I didn't know what to do with, and then I just kept using it. I found other things to not feel stuff too, and that worked really well for a long time. Until it stopped working, and the effects of constantly stuffing emotions led to a life and a body I didn't want.

What I also didn't want was to be an eighty year old woman still dragging my body issues behind me and blaming everything that I found displeasing in life on what my body looked like, because that was my default. I got it when I was eight.

Because I was blaming all my problems in life on what I looked like I was desperate to find a solution, and desperation tends to lead to willingness for me. Just like every person that has written an article similar to this before me, this is the point that I say I tried everything to lose weight. I'll spare you the details, but really everything. Usually the more miserable it might make me, the more hopeful I was, and sometimes it actually worked. I'd start seeing my collar bone again and bliss out over a shopping trip that would soon be happening in my mind. But inevitably I would hit a wall, or life would happen or I'd work really hard...step on a scale and get sucked out of bliss and into a state of panic or despair.

I hated everything about this. I hated the weight, I hated that it mattered to me, I hated that there were beautiful brilliant people that put themselves in the corner to hide their shame. I hated society for brainwashing me, I hated the powerlessness, I hated that I thought about it all the time, I hated. sleeveless shirts, I hated how unhappy most of my life had been.

Then one day I watched a documentary called “forks over knives” on Netflix because Game of Thrones didn't come in the mail on my day off. In a very nutshell summary it basically outlines why consuming animal products maybe isn't the best idea if you are hoping to be on the planet and feel good simultaneously. It was a compelling testimony, I recommend it highly. So I started trying to eat more vegetables and lay off the meat and cheese a bit. It was a challenge. Bad day for me equals lasagna, but I enjoyed trying to figure out ways to cook vegetables that made them taste good to me. My goal was to feel better, not lose weight. And I DID feel better, the chronic, debilitating pms that I'd had since I got my grown up lady bits diminished significantly, and I had a marked increase in energy.

Next I started going to yoga twice a week. At first, not getting psyched out by the sea of perfect yoga bodies surrounding me was more work then the actual class, but that changed pretty quickly. I stopped comparing myself to everyone around me and started actually doing what I was supposed to do, which was listen to my body and perfect the pose, not myself.

At this point I had noticed that I had started to lose weight, but I adamantly refused to weigh myself. Because my focus was to feel better, and I was, so why subject myself to those silly old rules and numbers that always squished my sunshine anyway.

The only other piece was that I tried to be nice to myself, say nice things to me even if I didn't believe it, and if anyone asked me to do something that involved a kind of physical activity that didn't make me feel homicidal, I said yes.

A few months ago, I went in for my yearly physical, which of course includes stepping on a scale. I stood there with my eyes closed like a 4 year old, and listened to the evil scraping of metal against metal as the oblivious to my plight nurse rated my soul. What came out of her mouth was a number that meant that I had lost forty pounds in the past year. Believe me, I was shocked, and ecstatic, and had a really hard time not completely losing what small grip on cool I have at this point in my life in the middle of a family practice.

I guess the moral of this story is that we are trained to believe that if you really really want something, you'd better be prepared to work really really hard for it. And in someways I think that's true for a lot of things. But if the point of you getting whatever it is that you want is because you think it will make you happy and your relentless pursuit of getting it is killing you, then stop it. You're not happy! Employ your inner hippie and chill out! Find something that makes you feel good, and focus on that for a while and see what happens, and if it doesn't work you can always go back to torturing yourself. So far I haven't had to.
 

                          

Cohenisms and Haircuts: Guest post by Lindsey Lowe

My son, Cohen, is a bit particular. Okay, maybe even borderline OCD. And since he was bitty, he has had major hang-ups about getting his hair cut. This has presented somewhat of a problem because he's got a lot of hair! And it seems to grow at rocket speed. Fortunately for everyone involved, a solution has emerged, and that beautiful, talented and ever-so-lovely solution is Morgan Claborn.

Not only does Morgan do a fantastic job on my child's perpetually untidy and cowlick-ridden head of hair, but also he absolutely ADORES her. It probably doesn't hurt that she is willing to amuse him in all his quirks and Cohenisms, such as "how many times are you going to use THOSE scissors?" So now my son actually looks forward to haircuts, and I am doubly happy because his hair has never looked so great.

Morgan has more than 10 years experience as a stylist, and she also has amazing personal taste. Her affinity for aesthetics is something I believe makes her topnotch as hair stylists go. It puts her in another realm. She not only knows what looks good, but she also has the skills needed to bring forth those good looks. Her attention to detail also adds to the overall success of each cut.

She now cuts my hair, my son's hair (of course), my sister's hair and she also unleashes her talents on the heads of many of my Chattanooga friends and acquaintances. Her rates are more than affordable, and her company is delightful to boot. If you are looking for a new summer style, I cannot recommend her enough.

Thanks Lindsey, I ADORE Cohen so dealing with his "isms" is great fun! Guys, if you want a cut, email me at morgangriggs@att.net and I will pass along my cell phone number to you.

All the Best XO, Morgan

Riley: The Man Behind the Counter

If you have been in the shop recently, chances are you have met my husband, Riley. He is kindly holding down the fort for me on Tuesdays and Wednesdays and I have been enjoying the extra time off to craft, hang out with the pets and enjoy this beautiful weather. I wanted to introduce you all to the heavily mustached man behind the counter, meet Riley!

 Hi Riley, tell us a little about yourself?

I love things that make sound.  I'm a musician, a noise artist and a lover of the little animals.  

How did you end up in Chattanooga, the proud owner of a rad women's boutique?

Morgan and I were searching for a picturesque city on an economic upswing where we could open our business.  Chattanooga fit the bill and had the added bonus of being a pretty rad place.

What's the nerdiest thing about yourself you are willing to tell us?

The 3rd Doctor is my favorite.

Your current favorite Chattanooga grub?

My favorite is still the veggie reuben dog at Good Dog.

If you could teleport anywhere right now, where would it be and why?

Somewhere with fewer questions. 

If you could visit the home of anyone, living or deceased and have a few craft beers with them, who would it be and why?

Buckminster Fuller or Alfred Korzybski.   They once met each other so can I say both?  I enjoy listening to smart people.

Favorite random Chattanooga trivia.

There's a cave under the national cemetery.   They sealed it up a long time ago.

What do you miss most about Austin?

Food trailers.

Best part about working at Fredonia?

I like interacting with the public and telling them what the weather is supposed to do.   It's my thing.   Don't judge.

Stop by, say hi to him and ask him who Buckminister Fuller is!?! 

Influences Part I

 This post was originally featured on http://sheworeitanyways.com/ but I love it so much that I wanted to share it with you on this blog. My Nanny was a HUGE and lasting influence on me in more ways than I can mention. She was a huge personality with a huge love of life. I hope you enjoy!

Hair piled high, gin and tonic and a smoke in hand; my Nanny was a force to be reckoned with. When I think of her what comes to mind is her snarky sense of humor, her laugh, her coral lipstick and her fabulous rhinestone cat eye glasses. Hell on wheels in her 1975 Cadillac, rocking a fur, she WAS Auntie Mame. If you have never read the book or seen the 1958 movie, do yourself a favor and read or watch ASAP. Nanny was a proper lady with an edge; a Flapper in the 20’s, a photographer for the Army during WWII, had a dresser drawer full of white gloves, dressed to the nines to match her luggage when she flew and NEVER wore white after Labor Day.

When I was a kid, my Grandparents had a pool which was the hub of neighborhood activity in the summers.  I was completely obsessed with the lady’s bathing ensembles. This was the early to mid-1970’s and many of the ladies were still sporting bathing attire from as far back as the 50’s. Beaded and rubber floral bathing caps, highwaisted 2 piece Bark Cloth bikinis, flowy chiffon robes, all kinds of head wraps and huge sunglasses, Dashikis and amazing beaded and bejeweled sandals(with heels of course). I loved nothing more than to play dress up with them while the ladies swam and drank.

 

Sadly, I lost her when I was 11. She made a huge impact on me in that small amount of time and not a single day has gone by since that I haven’t thought about her or missed her. She was, what she often referred to others as, a “character.” She taught me to pin curl, set and pick out her hair; I later attended beauty school and can turn out a wicked mean roller set. She fostered my imagination, it was one of her favorite words and always encouraged me to be myself. My most cherished possessions are my photos of her going back to 1927, my black and white silent films of her from the late 40’s donning  a cotton crop top, high waisted shorts and milkmaid braids.  Fabulous. Flawless. Missed.

 

Five Things: My Pets

I have never not had a pet and I can't imagine my life without the comfort of animals. I have had many lovely animals through the years and am currently Mom to five very special fur babies. Delia is a 12 year old chihuahua, Isabella aka Little Big Fats is a 13 year old chihuahua, Alabama is a 12 year old Jack Russell, Lulu is a derpy 2 year old Redbone Coonhound and Cima is a 4 year old Ragdoll kitty. They each have their own quirks and special personalities, there's never a dull moment at home and I miss them when I am away from the house at all.

Five Things: My Pets

1. Delia's belly smells like cornchips. I love it.
2. Big Fats is ALWAYS happy. ALWAYS.
3. Lulu's hugs and snuggles are a cure all to whatever ails me and her overbite slays me. 
4. Alabama patrols the yard and keeps us safe from bad birds and squirrels, she has a zero tolerance policy for them in her yard.
5. Cima is an excellent conversationalist.

Hug your pet for me today! XO

Lovely: Vintage Photos

 I love old photographs because they speak to me of our shared humanity, don't we all photograph our loved ones, homes, pets, friends, vacations, weddings, holidays and things we think are beautiful? When I rummage through old photos at yard sales, flea markets and thrift stores, no matter the decade, these are the glimpses into the lives of strangers I see. I like to imagine the stories behind these photos, the day in the life of the person or thing being photographed.All taken from once-cherished photo albums and now left to strangers to paw through, I guess I recognize something of my sentimental self when I look at what was once special to someone else. So much has changed and yet what these old photos tell me is that things really aren't so different in out hearts.  

These photos aren't from my collection, that post is for another day when I feel like rummaging through boxes, but from one of my Pinterest boards of old photos I have found on line and love. I hope you will enjoy.

 

 

          

Guest Blogger: Lindsey Lowe!

I've said it before, the best part of my "job" is meeting people and building community, finding connectedness and the shared threads that make us human. Like Lindsey, I am in a place where I seek to be lifted up and encouraged by those I give my love and time to and I truly hope this blog is a place where we can get to know and support each other. So, that said, please enjoy our latest guest blog post and photos by Lindsey Lowe.

Safety+Gratitude

Sometimes all we really need is to feel safe. Even as babies, new to the world, we crave that feeling of being wrapped tightly, swaddled, protected from the abyss of the unfamiliar.  And we all seem to carry our own rhetorical safety blankets into adulthood. Sometimes that safe feeling finds us through a phone call to mom or hidden in the pages of a well-worn book. Other times we find it in uglier forms; at the bottom of a bottle or even in an ill thought out night with someone we used to love. If we’re lucky, we grow into ourselves enough with time, so that we can bear our own weight without these crutches. I’m not saying we outgrow the need for people or human contact, but we can learn to be selective, to guard our hearts from things that feel safe, but in the long haul are doing us more harm than good.

In attempt to better guard my own heart, I’ve been cleaning house in the friend department lately. I guess you could say I’m at a no-bullshit place in life. I find that I don’t really have space in my world anymore for fair-weather friends (aka: drinking buddies), people who only know how to take or even just those overtly negative humans who can’t seem to recognize good even as it slaps their faces. I used to feel safe with these “friends.” I used to feel at home with boyfriends who didn’t think twice about yelling in my face or calling me “bitch.” I had grown accustomed to a life in which I didn’t really value myself much, so why would I demand to be valued by the people in my periphery? But years and life experience have shown me a different way to be. Though the thought of being alone used to terrify me, I know feel a kind of comfort in solitude. Perhaps it’s a growing up thing, that ability to be alone with your own thoughts. Maybe it comes with accepting who you are, whereyou are and where you intend to go. Even more so, I think it comes with the decision to be grateful along the way.

My mom always told me growing up that happiness was a choice. I’m only slightly ashamed to say it has taken me 28 years of getting it wrong to recognize the truth in that. I think she meant it more in terms of being happy in the moment, rather than long-term happiness, but what a revelation. When we can wrap our heads around that almost absurdly simple fact, what a difference it makes! Even when it seems that everything around us has turned to garbage, we should be hard-pressed not to find something to be joyful about. Sometimes we just need to get Peter Pan with it. Find a happy thought, guys. Life is weird. It’s hard. It has a knack for tripping us up. And for some of us, we trip A LOT. But shitstorms aside, life is a lovely thing. Every day we waste pouting or spewing our negativity is one we can never reclaim. So just today, I petition you to think of three things that make you unequivocally happy. Dwell on these things, for life is short. Find beauty in the everyday, and let those simple daily joys be your safety.

I am thankful for…

-My spirited and imaginative son, Cohen and our time together each day.

-Music that makes me feel something!

-Books + words + word games

“A thing of beauty is a joy forever. Its loveliness increases. It shall never pass into nothingness.” John Keats