Manolo for the Big Girl

[Note: A new "From Francesca's Inbox" is coming tomorrow morning!]

A while back, Francesca and Plumcake each blogged about avoiding loneliness. Among other things, Francesca mentioned a course she has taken called “Understanding Yourself and Others.”  Commenter avi wrote:

I would like to know more about the “Understanding Yourself and Others” events. To my surprise, I might be ready for something like that. But from the outside, it seems a little cultish. Would you tell us more about it?

Finally Francesca has had a moment to compose her thoughts about this wonderful experience. She prefaces by emphasizing that this is her own experience and she does not represent anyone else.

Francesca first heard of it from a friend who is a member of the clergy. He is a serious, thoughtful, no-nonsense man, so when he told me about how much he had gained from it — as well as his parents, his sister, and his wife — I was intrigued. I trust his judgement — and his parents are among the smarter, more grounded people I know–  so I went into the course with a very open mind, ready to learn something. This is important because in the course they do some corny (cultish-seeming) things sometimes, but because someone I believed in believes in the course, I was open to “going with the flow.”

Before the course, one fills out a long form, including one’s goals for the experience. For example, one’s goal might be to develop more self-confidence, to come to terms with a particular family member or trauma, to become a better listener, to figure out what one wants to do with one’s career, etc. Up to 22 students may register (plus 2 “reviewers” who are retaking the class after a time, to work on themselves more with different goals), so there is lots of personal attention.

It’s 2  1/2 days of learning to be completely honest with others (scary!) and with oneself (even scarier!) in a loving, helpful way. The instructors are warm and funny but also will call you out on your, eh, issues when appropriate! There are lots of whole-group exercises, and some times when individual or small groups (for example, several people who have similar relationship issues they are working on) will be the focus. It is intense and a little draining and feels fantastic — like a good emotional workout.

Once one has finished, one can return (for free) as a “course assistant,” basically there to act as a support to the students. I have found that being a course assistant is at least as interesting and helpful as being a student, since I can watch and listen –learning so much about human nature — and then apply what I can to myself without any pressure. Francesca has gone back to assist four times! One leaves with a happy,  glowing feeling.

Does the feeling last? No. It dissipates after a  while. But the tools one learns do last, if one uses them. There is no magic pill that can make anyone feel confident all the time, or reconciled with a family member all the time, etc. But the course has helped Francesca reframe and embrace her “issues,” and deal with them with some optimism and self-acceptance and a sense of humor. She gets along better with her parents, she sets boundaries for herself better, she accepts her fatness better, she takes insults less personally. (This was all a process over a few years of returning to the course a few times and other helpful things like therapy.)

Yes, people who first come back from a UYO weekend, flush with the emotional high, do sometimes sound as if they’ve encountered some sort of cult, much to the annoyance of friends and family members! (Francesca must point out, though, that the aim of the course is to help one connect with others, and never isolates one from one’s family. Also, returning to “assist” is free, so no one is being milked for funds. You don’t have to keep spending money in order to be part of the program.)

On the other hand, loved ones are usually pleased (if a bit confused) to see one feeling good. Francesca knows many couples for whom this course saved their marriage, or brought it to a new level, even if only one member of the couple took the course.

Anyhow, that is Francesca’s two cents! More information is here!

xoxo

Internet friend Mary asks:

How is Gustav?

Francesca thanks Mary for asking and says: Gustav is just fine! He is now 6 months old, social to  the point of gregariousness, very verbal and insistent, a perfect angel when he is sleeping, fond of being petted and cooed over, and overall possessing a definite “personality.”  Highly entertaining and the perfect cat for Francesca.

Gustav was recently neutered, poor dear, and was quite angry with me for it when we came home from the doctor, but once the effects of the anesthesia wore off he seemed to forget all about it.

Of course, Francesca has bought Gustav a handsome collar and ID charm, so he looks quite spiffy. (No, Francesca does not believe in otherwise “dressing up” one’s pets.) He also has been trained with most social graces and properly connects the word “no” to touching the tables and counters.

Francesca’s only problem with Gustav is his ongoing kitten-ish inclination to bite people. He does not do so maliciously; he is playing, or just likes the feeling of having something in his mouth. It does not hurt, but it is a turn-off, especially for some of Francesca’s more skittish human visitors. Francesca is taking suggestions for training him to stop this behavior.

(PS That is not Gustav in the picture, but close enough! As Francesca’s friend L says, “in pictures, all cats look deranged.”)

Reader Caroline writes:

This is my first year making Thanksgiving all by
myself and it’s also my first Thanksgiving with my
boyfriend and his family. I’ve been trying to find a
great pecan pie recipe and you were the first person who
popped in my head when I thought, “who bakes and would
know these things??

Do you have a definitive pecan pie
recipe?

Well, Caroline, definitive is a big word, but I can tell you I do have a really, really good pecan pie recipe that has worked multiple times for me. It’s delicious, a little special, a touch off the beaten track,  and – to coin a term – easy as pie to make. If your boyfriend and his family have any love for pecan pie, I’m betting you’ll get raves for this one.

It comes from the accurately named tome Pie by Ken Haedrich. If you love pie, this is a great book to own. Trust me. I wouldn’t be without it in my cookbook library.

Snowbird Mountain Lodge’s Mocha Pecan Pie

(more…)

A few months ago, Francesca tried her best to help our reader Jen, who needed an olive-green bridesmaid dress for her brother’s wedding.

Francesca has received this update from the Jen!

Several months ago you responded to my request for help finding an olive green bridesmaid’s dress. You shared my pain in discovering there weren’t many choices out there in the right color. I wanted to send you a picture of what I ended up picking.

You’ll see that the color is not quite olive, but it’s close enough (I got prior approval from my sister-in-law, of course).  I ended up finding it at Evans online – I lived in London for a semester a few years ago, so was familiar with the UK plus-sized shopping scene.  It was labeled a prom dress.  I had it shortened and otherwise tailored and I was quite happy with the result!

Francesca says:  The Jen indeed looks lovely, and wishes the hearty congratulations on Jen’s brother’s marriage.

Yesterday Francesca posted her thoughtful response to reader L’s letter on loneliness (the title of today’s post comes from Mother Teresa’s description of that condition)  Today I’m giving it a go.

Dearest L,

Let me tell you the little-known parable of the Volvo and the Cadillac:

Once upon a time there was a remarkably beautiful, witty, erudite goddess of a woman named, uh, Rumcake. She lived happily with a Volvo station wagon named Tilly. Tilly was a good car with lots of safety features, decent mileage and heated seats which were nice to have although not technically all that useful in Texas someplace that’s not Texas because this isn’t autobiographical.

Tilly ran  day in and day out, got her oil changed almost regularly and was well-loved.

Then one day, a classic Cadillac named Stella Blanche appeared. Blanche was big, beautiful and looked especially good topless, not unlike Rumcake herself. Now, Blanche required a lot more maintenance than Tilly.  Rumcake’s grandmother, who had never driven anything but Volvos in her life, was forever trying to convince our spectacularly-shod though WOEFULLY UNDERPAID heroine to sell Blanche because she was too much of a hassle to maintain.

Rumcake then sensibly inquired whether Grandma was smoking the crack.

“You don’t just get rid of something you love because it needs special care. You take care of it. Blanche is beautiful, special and a lot more interesting than any late-model Volvo –which by the way needs maintenance from time to time, too– and although you might get your five-for-five-dollars undies in a budge at the idea of my car spending more than 20 minutes a year in the garage, I know that it’s just a part of making sure she’s getting what she needs.”

Rumcake was, right (as usual) her grandmother was wrong (again as usual) and everyone lived happily ever after. Especially her mechanics. The End.

Now, I know sometimes stories are too subtle for deep interpretation, so let me lay a little church on you:

Sugarlump, you need to get yourself some therapy.

The way I figure it, it’s all part of the Self-Care Package. I’ve got a gal who does my hair when it needs to be trimmed, someone who shapes my eyebrows when they’ve crawled together like a pair of star-crossed caterpillars, and I’ve got someone who helps me out during stormy emotional seas.

I wouldn’t want an amateur to cut my hair or wax my brows, and since emotional wellness is NEARLY as important as getting that perfect “arch of disapproval” etched into the wooly mammoths that are my natural eyebrows, you can bet your pants I’m going to see a professional there, too.

You might benefit from regular meetings, or you might just benefit from occasional shrinkage, like I do. Besides, there’s nothing more boring than someone who doesn’t need therapy.

As far as being lonely goes, well, I think sometimes you’re just going to be lonely, and that sucks. A lot.  Hell, I’m NOT shy (were you sitting down for that one?) my idea of heaven is being left alone for a week, but even then…sometimes I’m lonely. I even get a bone crusher from time to time.  The key is to have solid foundation under the loneliness that lets you ride it out. I can’t help you with that specifically –that’s something for you and your therapist– but I can say Buddhist nun Pema Chodron’s “Comfortable with Uncertainty” certainly opened things up for me.

I suspect, though, your loneliness isn’t just loneliness for the living. Let’s not kid ourselves, Loneliness is grief. When we are lonely, we are grieving our missing relationships.  Sounds a lot of like bereavement to me.

I’ve lost six family members this year, six, including my favorite person, my grandfather.  My little brother –my backup favorite person– has cancer (God punished him for having a stupid goatee). It’s been nothing but a cavalcade of suck since this time last year and L, I am grieved.

It’s been a year, almost to the day, since my grandfather went into hospice and I went to stay with him and although the initial shock and sadness is over, my grieving has only begun.  That’s the thing about grief: it may change forms –now it aches where it used to stab–  but it is there for as long as it pleases, and fighting it isn’t going to help anybody.

I very much suggest finding a grief therapy group or someone who specializes in bereavement counseling. I’m part of Walking the Mourner’s Path, a bereavement group through my church. If you don’t have any program in mind, contact your local hospice, tell them what you’re looking for –faith-based, secular, whatever– and they’ll provide you with information. You’ll find most bereavement therapists suggest starting no sooner than six months after the death, so you’re in prime position.

Seriously though, L, That’s the only rock-solid advice I can offer.

Everything else here is just the inklings of someone, as a therapist, makes an excellent fashion blogger: (BUT WAIT THERE’S MORE)

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Francesca, Plumcake and Twistie received a heartfelt letter from reader L:

I want to thank you for all your insight on fashion, books, art, and life. There have been many times I’ve taken courage and heart from something one of you has written.

I’m in my early 40’s, living alone, doing a demanding job that I love. In the last three years, I’ve ended a long-term relationship and lost a parent whom I dearly loved. At the same time I started eating healthier, became more physically active, and updated my wardrobe and hairstyle. I have loving friends, but they are all married, with families, and they don’t always have time to hang out and talk. I’m close with my siblings but they live overseas. 

Even though I’m shy, I’ve tried to step out of my comfort zone by taking classes, going on trips, volunteering. I’ve tried being outgoing and friendly and have even read books about how to talk to people. But I still feel lonely and disconnected. Don’t get me wrong. I’m an independent, some might even say tough, person. But there are days when I can’t face going to another movie alone, lunch alone, making dinner alone, going for a walk alone. I’ve been dating, but nothing much has come of it.

It’s not just a question of wanting to be partnered. It’s a general feeling of being cut off from life. The loneliness doesn’t occupy my thoughts all the time, but when it does it is bone-deep and crushing. I think about my own mortality and can’t help but think that if I went tomorrow, it would be as if I’d never been here.

Could you write something about how you cope, or have coped in the past, with loneliness? Do you have any strategies or advice? Will seeing a doctor help? Almost everyone who writes into your blog seems to have it all together, but I guess there are those like me who are not quite there yet, despite outward appearances.

Francesca answers:

It may help L to know that, while I cannot speak for Twistie or Plumcake or any of our commenters, Francesca herself (her non-virtual self, that is) is not always as “together” as she is on this blog. Much happens in life that does not make it onto the internets. Even the most superfantastic of us do not feel superfantastic all of the time.

For loneliness that feels “crushing” and “bone-deep,” especially after the death of a parent and the ending of an important relationship, seeing a doctor absolutely could help. It appears to Francesca that L may be suffering from clinical depression (yes, a person can be going to work every day with a great haircut and still be depressed), in which case a combination of medication and/or talk therapy could literally be a life-saver.

Depression has a stigma attached to it, but it shouldn’t. It is a medical condition, and just like diabetes or food allergies, it can be managed (or overcome). It does help, to lessen the feeling of stigma, to live for a while in New York City, where people speak openly about their therapists and their Zoloft (ah, Americans!)

Of course, loneliness does not have to be associated with depression. Anyone who is not “partnered,” when they want to be – such as Francesca– will feel lonely sometimes. Some people feel lonely because they are in bad relationships, or simply because they feel existential angst. Having busy friends, and family far away, as L does, does not help at all, as Francesca well knows.

In taking care of her body, treating herself, and expanding her social horizons, L has taken important, positive steps.  Here are some  additional things Francesca does, or has done, to manage loneliness, usually with success:

• Staying relentlessly busy with work, courses and hobbies
• Reading as much as possible
• Being part of a religious community
• Going to therapy when needed
• Taking a course called “Understanding Yourself and Others” with Global Relationship Centers, and returning now and then as a course assistant whenever her travel schedule allows. (Francesca loves the warm atmosphere, personal tools, and new friends.)
• Getting a pet
• Keeping in close contact with my dear family and my friends who live overseas. For this, Francesca uses an American number which rings in her home abroad (get one through Packet8 or Vonage) but Skype works too.
• Becoming part of various online communities (natch!)
• Reaching out to married girlfriends and cultivating those relationships as much as possible.
• Recognizing feelings of loneliness, allowing myself to feel them and let them pass without judging them, rather than trying to force myself to feel happier.
• Meditation/breathing exercises
• Entertaining friends at home

 YMMV, so consider all possibilities, and choose the ones that work best for you. And remember, you may feel lonely, but in this, you are not alone.

Francesca wishes to open up L’s letter to the love and support of our wonderful readers. How do YOU, in all your put-togetherness, manage loneliness? Please use the comments section to share/observe/advise.

Lovely reader Stella asks:

Plummy, I wonder if someday you might consider writing something up on how you keep your shoes in such nice condition… I wear the &%#! out of mine. I don’t know if it’s because I’m a fast walker or bear down on them too hard, but the heel tips get smooshed and worn out so quickly, and they’re always getting scuffed. One of the reasons (other than $) that I’m afraid to buy really high-end shoes is that I don’t think they’ll last me very long.

First of all, congratulations on having the good sense to share a name with my beloved Cadillac. That’s the sort of right-thinking behavior I like to see on this blog. Keep up the good work.

So, you’re hard on shoes. Me too.

As big girls even if we walk like little baby angels –personally I don’t, unless the new meaning of “little baby angels” is “drunken circus bear”– we’re just going to run down our heels faster than lighter women.

If you’re just moderately hard on your heels, you can have the tips replaced at a cobbler for about $7-$10. They’re usually sturdier than the tips on the original shoe but if you want to be extra careful (and trust me, you do) buy your own heel tips and either put them on yourself –dead easy with the right tools and a little elbow grease– or take them to the cobbler.

The Stiletto Heel Tips Shop is a fantastic British webstore where you can buy a variety of heel tips, including metal ones and extra-hard plastics. They’re about 2 or 3 dollars a pop and shipping is super cheap, and you can even go on the site to find some humorous instructions on how to replace them yourself. Hint: the best place to store your spare heel tips is in a humidor but I just put them in a Ziploc bag with a wet cotton ball and toss the whole mess into the freezer. It’s probably overkill, but rubber tips will crack more easily if they’ve dried out and it’s not like I’ve got actual FOOD in the freezer or anything.

If you’re tough on your toes too, the site also sells metal toe sole protectors. The other option is to have a rubber half-sole put on at the cobbler. I personally don’t care for rubber soles on high heels. When my regular shoe guy was being punished for ruining my brand new Prada ombre Mary Janes (that collection was what started the whole ombre trend, btw) that I have still NEVER WORN I went to another place and they put rubber half soles on my lacquered wood Zanottis AND my beloved Delman mary janes without asking and I rained down fire on them on the likes of which hadn’t been seen since the angel Gabriel got happy with the lighter fluid.

(alas poor Nottis, I hardly knew ye)

Which brings us to your concern about “really high-end shoes”…I feel ya.

I totally understand not wanting to drop bank on shoes you think you’re going to ruin. I don’t buy fabric shoes for more than $100. That’s not to say there aren’t a few pairs I wouldn’t switch teams over; I’ve been drooling around these Zanottis at Neiman Marcus Last Call for months, hoping a pair will magically turn up in my size:

(The heel is electric eel blue mirror! Love!)

but generally I stick with leather.

In some cases when you spend a shed-load of money for shoes, you’re really just buying the label *cough*Gucci sneakers*cough* but usually the more expensive the shoe –up to a point– the more abuse it can handle and still live to tell the tale.

Think about it like this: you can’t wash a paper plate.

If you strip a heel, seriously scuff or scratch a synthetic shoe, nine times out of ten that’s the ball game. However you wouldn’t believe the damage I’ve seen on some high-end heels that come out singing and swinging and getting merry like Christmas after a brief stint in shoe rehab. You just can’t be afraid to take them in for a little tune up now and then.

The other thing about buying higher-end shoes is they usually come with dust bags for storage.

Some designers give two bags, one for each shoe, which is ideal but rare.  Keeping them in their bags keeps your precious pumps away from danger when they’re not on your feet. They’re also dead handy for when you want to wear flats on the subway or walking to work.

And then there’s The Wayfarer Effect.

The Wayfarer Effect is where you treat something on which you spent a wad of cash better than something less expensive, so named because I was notorious for losing my sunglasses until I bought a pair of Wayfarers. Now I still misplace them from time to time –I’m convinced my church was built for the sole purpose of giving me a place to lose my shades– but I’m a lot more careful with my $150 glasses than I was with my drugstore cheapies.

This doesn’t mean you have to drop $600 on a pair of shoes. There’s a happy medium between the $1100 shoe made entirely out of feathers and the eyelashes of early Christian martyrs and the $11 shoe composed with nothing but  vinyl and the tears of 8 year old Chinese kids. In her comment, Style Spy wisely mentioned Cole Haan and Stuart Weitzman (who makes wide widths) as well-made, easily repaired shoes that won’t cost the world and I think that’s a solid place to start.

Hope this helps, Stella and thanks for reading!

P.S. For those minor scuffs on shoes without a nap (i.e., no velvet or suede) I’ve found the Mister Clean Magic Eraser sponge to be a godsend.

Our internet friend Amy asks:

I have often seen you advise your readers to find a good seamstress, in order to alter clothes for a flattering fit. This seems to be pretty common advice among fashion gurus. My question: How? My drycleaner’s alterations are good enough for shortening pants, but I have a couple of things that need to be taken in and I think I need someone more specialized. How does one go about finding a good seamstress in one’s area?

Amy asks the excellent question.

The best way to find a great seamstress is word-of-mouth. If you know anyone who has had clothes altered — you might want to send out an email to all your local friends, or post a request on your Facebook page — get recommendations from them.

If your friends prove unhelpful in this regard, there are other ways of finding candidates:

1- Call a local wedding planner and ask for a recommendation. Wedding planners deal with clothing alterations all the time.

2- Check the bulletin boards at your local fabric stores. (This tip came via Plumcake.)

3-  Post a request for recommendations on small local listserves, such as for your church or high school alumni group, if they allow “off topic” postings.

4- As a last resort, use the yellow pages or post on Craigslist. Use large, public lists with caution, because the people sending you recommendations might be the seamstresses themselves! This has happened to Francesca, so beware.

Now, let us say that word-of-mouth methods gleaned nothing for you, and you are faced with using a seamstress who does not come recommended by someone you know personally. Here are a few signs the person is talented:

a) She has a large volume of clothing waiting to be picked up

b) Many people are waiting to see her, or it is difficult to get an appointment

c)  She owns a chalk spray for marking skirt hems. This is a clue she has a clue.

d) She markets herself not only as a seamstress but also as a dressmaker.

Francesca says: Good luck!