Can you believe I just had a photoshoot?

I’m on the Bravery Report!

Long story short, even though I am a voice actor, I took an on-camera class for auditioning for commercials. My reason? Besides being scared witless of seeing full body video and wanting to prove to myself that new experiences are probably not that life threatening, a respected voice acting coach said it would be great to improve my commercial VO (Voice-over).

So my friend and I took the plunge.

Class was a blast and I found out I really enjoyed myself. And once I got over the shock of HOW MUCH I LOOK LIKE MY MOM! (How did I ever age so much from my mind’s eye?), I didn’t really mind the camera’s rendition of my plus-sized senior self. Most of my classmates were young, size -2, the super desirable ethnically “ambiguous”, or California blondes. I stood out in that crowd.

But on reflection, I realized that in casting, standing out in the crowd is not such a bad thing! I’m willing to be my age and size on camera. What the heck. As part of class the teacher, who is an experienced commercial actor and who works often with casting directors, and our classmates offer up your natural commercial types. Things you might book by your looks.

Of course I got sensual vixen….

Okay, not really. Here are some of those types.

Laurie’s Commerical Looks

What it takes for Laurie to be a natural beauty…

• Unruly crazy hair needs Brazilian blow-out (thankfully unrelated to waxing by the same name)
• Hair Trim
• Roots dyed
• Facial hair threaded out of existence (ouch!)
• Facial on insistence of hair threading remover – guess my furless self revealed horrible impurities.
• Professional stylist who knows what looks good on me and what looks good on camera (Hooray I have a friend who does this for a living, so I hired her. BTW, I will NEVER shop without her again! Fast, fun, painless, picks the right size in every brand. Wow!)
• Manicure (nails might show)
• Pedicure (nails won’t show, but makes me feel polished)
• Professional make-up artist
• Me learning how to IRON and STEAM clothing the day before the shoot.
• Learning how to tote many outfits without ruining said ironing and steaming to photography studio.
• Learning how to pose (to look natural means you are doing stand-up pilates).
• Learning how to love myself no matter what!

Along with wanting some professional headshots to be able to submit myself for commercials, I wanted to rebrand my voice acting business so that I can market to production houses and agents etc. And you can SEE some of this branding by checking out my new commercial voice over demo on YouTube and as a bonus, see even more expressions in these looks. BUT

Please help me with Silly YouTube…

By subscribing to my crazy URL YouTube Channel for my voice acting. I need 100 to get a custom url that would make sense to give out to potential clients. If you are in the same boat, leave me a comment and I will subscribe to yours back! Thanks!

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCHJG5fw8ozC7yJiZHHVUmzA

I love you Mom. My shoot was actually on the anniversary of her passing. Today would have been Mom’s 86th birthday. Somehow I feel she knows about my adventures and how grateful I am to share her beauty xoxoxo

I love this photo of my dad and me in the backyard of Mom and Dad’s House

My Dad’s Turkey Birthday

My dad had the fun, or challenge, of having Thanksgiving fall on his birthday every once in a while. His birthday is Nov. 22 and it would take its turn as the 4th Thursday of the year. Dad’s been gone for almost 10 years now. He passed just a few months after my 50th birthday at the ripe old age of 87. So it is wild to think that he would be almost 100! (Almost as wild as coming to terms that I am almost 60 yikes!)

Dad loved Thanksgiving no matter if it hijacked his birthday or not, because of all things in his life, Dad loved having his family around. Not only us kids, but ALL of his family – cousins, 2nd cousins, 2nd cousins twice removed (and being a genealogist he even knew what that means). We often went to Grandma’s (his mother) and ate with a passel of shirt-tail relatives and friends who I didn’t know all the rest of the year.

There was pie and turkey and all of the trimmings and running around Grandma’s blueberry farm and fishing out minnows in coffee cans and tossing walnut pods plucked from unmowed grassland that has fallen from monster trees. There was me, the youngest, and only girl, tagging along with my “boy cousins” who got progressively cooler and more “out of my league” but who let me hang with them anyway.

Almost every year of my life I sat around Grandma’s mahogany table for Thanksgiving. And I took possession of it in college after she entered a retirement community due to a broken hip. I cried. That table was beautiful and I loved it. But my student affordable apartment was not the place for Thanksgiving. So that table became the place for books and bills and hats and coats and hopeful dates and crazy all nighters.

It graces my dining room today. It almost ended up in the dump as it had fallen to pieces over the years. But when Mark and I remodeled our kitchen and bathroom a few years ago, the wonderful cabinet artisan who came to measure my bathroom, saw it and said, “We cannot let this beautiful wood go”. So he took all of the pieces with him and totally rebuilt the table and chairs and I cried with happiness that this part of my history still lived – even though my dad did not.

Today both of my parents are gone, as are Mark’s. We will share our table with a new friend. A new shirt-tail relative. I think Dad would love that on his Turkey Birthday.

xoxoxox

This was a tasty, mindful experience. My room service avocado toasts with a side of Strip View in Las Vegas where we celebrated Mark’s birthday last summer.

Pondering on Hunger, Food and Self-Esteem

I’m always waiting to eat. Eating is my clock, my love, my accomplishment, my purpose. Tick, tick, tick. It’s been five minutes since breakfast. Tock, tock, tock, how many more minutes before I can safely say the growling in my stomach is real and not hope. Hope? Hope to be hungry? Isn’t hunger the enemy? Nope.

Hunger is the signal for the big game.

Hunger means I can eye my plate for those few seconds of passionate anticipation before my fork gets busy.

Then come all of the joys of taste, texture, and the warm filling of my body. The inner hug which is food for me.

Yep, food and I go way back. It’s a complicated relationship…on my end.

Food mostly sits there.

Food cannot physically call my name, nor hug, nor accompany me – at least not until it’s been added to the storage silos on my hips, thighs, tummy, or chin.

Food gains its wonder and personality from my end. Talk about projection! It goes from lover to monster depending on my mood.

Love and Dread

When I cook and prepare food I know I will love to eat, it is almost as good as eating.

My mind gets busy with imagination. Smells fill the kitchen, along with the sound of fresh snapping produce, the whoosh of my knife, the tinkling joy of whisks tickling mixing bowls like a bell choir.

Spice, herbs, dice. All of these my playground and my palette.

I love to cook. I dread eating.

Or I used to dread eating.

Eating for me was guilty behavior. Even so called “healthy” foods, might call me too much. Fats bad. Carbs bad. Animal products bad. Sweets bad. And who knew what the next study or fad might be that would hold up the accusing mirror of my food weakness?

It was obvious from the extra fat on my body that I did not deserve to eat. I did not deserve to relax around food. I deserved to have a tight rein on my behavior.

I needed the safety of my calorie chains. Weigh, measure, document. I needed to exercise more than enough to be able to eat. But even then, food was not a joy.

Joyous food was forbidden. Like coveting your neighbor’s spouse, to love food was to sin in your mind. Fat people need to keep their mouths shut.

I think I also took that literally. To not only keep my mouth shut against pleasures of the flesh, eating-wise, but to keep my fat-crazed opinions to myself.

Weird thing is my “fat” mind persisted through weight loss, muscle building, and endurance exercise feats. No matter my actual size or fitness level, secretly, my inner DNA believed me to be a fat person and I was deeply ashamed to be fat.

Talking Helps

Through my podcast, Compulsive Overeating Diary, I have uncovered many of these issues by talking about my truth – no matter how unworthy or uncomfortable I felt. Tell your truth enough and you will start to understand yourself – even maybe to accept yourself.

One of the most surprising things I discovered was that I needed to give up dieting to relearn how my body operated. So I began to practice intuitive eating and I am very grateful for it. I finally did discover what my physical hunger signals were as well as that mysterious unicorn, satiety. I legalized foods until I didn’t hear my self-made siren calls to them as often.

My weight stabilized without dieting for the first time in – well, ever.

Emotionally, I began to feel those scary, horrible feelings that chips and ice-cream safely hid. I went to therapy, journaled, talked about those feelings on the podcast, let them out in weeping and screams. Cried me a river of regret and loss and loneliness. Screamed into my pillow the pain of being me, the hidden me, the young, frail, small girl who couldn’t understand why she was no longer loved just because she weighed more than before. The teenager who would do anything to fit in. The bad choices she made, the opportunities lost, the fear and self-hate.

All of these tumbled out over and over. My god, I’m almost 60! How much life is there left to change my ways? Have I wasted my entire life in fear and shame? Is that shame so ingrained that my progress with food might last, but my self-loathing remain?

Will I die unsatisfied that my life meant no more than longing after forbidden treats and approval?

Not what I want.

I want to feel inside the love I receive. I want to feel worthy for my attempts. I want to accept the many times I did my best. I want be proud of who I am. I want to decouple food from that shame.

Intuitive eating is a stepping stone.

And my next step, is to learn to feel worthy and loved. For that to happen, I need to truly and actively love myself. So to meet that goal, I created my new “dream diet”.

My New Dream Diet

I know, we tend to think of dieting as a way of restriction – calories, food groups, types of foods.

But if you look up the meanings of the word diet, they also include:

Diet: something provided or experienced repeatedly

For example, I might say, a steady “diet” of Survivor reruns influenced my productivity.

So the backbone of my new “dream diet” is eating very, very well.

Eating well for me includes:

• Cooking dishes I love to eat.
• Enjoying foods on social occasions without fear.
• Cooking and eating the freshest ingredients I can
• Taking time to enjoy my food
• Taking time to enjoy company
• Taking time to appreciate the bounty of choice I have
• Taking time to listen to my body
• Taking time to deal with emotions regularly so food can freely be food vs. my picture of it.
• Tracking when I need information, without fear of relapse
• Adjusting for time and chance without panic
• Feeling good about my choices despite how others might choose to eat.
• Feeling confident that my food is based on love, not fear.

So my new diet definition example might well be:

A steady diet of self care and compassion influenced Laurie’s attitude and created more opportunities to be loving toward herself and others.

How would you describe your dream diet?

Bon Appétit!

xoxo

We’re filled with the holiday glow as we get down to the LA River bike path for a quick 15 miles.

First the Good News

• Tiger the Cat’s blood work came back and he’s in good shape. So his health crisis seems to be on the back burner for now. Phew!
• Despite my plantar fasciitis Mark and I are back on track with our bike training for my birthday 50-mile race in March.
• I drove the new truck down to the local park to record the last show and felt happy driving it.

Now the other

In my last show, I read a blog post where I shared my anxiety about having a perfect new truck, and even mentioned in a comment to BC Dave that,

What’s weird, at the same time I hope Mark will get a ding on it, so I can relax.

Well guess what? Right after I drove new beauty home safe and sound, Mark took it out to drive to the hardware store to buy a tool for a project “I asked him to do“, and he got REAR FREAKING ENDED by a distracted driver.

Holy Son of a GUN!

We don’t even have the license plates for this truck yet and it is dinged a plenty.

Oh man, my compulsive, critical mind went into overdrive telling me that this accident was my fault. My responsibility, that I “Wished it” into existence. That “I asked Mark to do the project”. Yada Yada Yada.

That if ONLY I’d kept a constant, vigilant, positive attitude, this accident would NOT HAVE HAPPENED!

Ok BCs, I know in my rational mind, that stuff just happens. That this was an accident, and my wishes and anxiety had nothing to do with this lady’s distraction nor her lack of leaving proper space between vehicles.

Mark was driving safely and he got hit.

He is feeling well so far, so that is a blessing. The truck still runs, so that is a blessing. The distracted driver is actually insured, so that is a blessing.

But this whole incident points out to me how insidious my inner sense of control and responsibility can be. No wonder I’m exhausted but can’t sleep. If my compulsive, perfectionist mind had it’s way, I would be living in a padded house with no corners and the cats would NEVER be out of my vision and I would never dare eat food I didn’t grow and cook my own darn self.

How did this crazy feeling of control develop?

All I know is that it is tied to false safety. Like if I worry enough, I’m keeping everyone safe. Like there is a cosmic bank that adds up my efforts and spits out safety and success. And if either of these are lacking, than it is my fault. I obviously have not controlled events or put enough angst out there to protect us.

Now this is counter to all that’s out there today about maintaining peaceful, positive minds and manifesting good for yourself, your family and the world. This is a nice, positive thought that DRIVES ME CRAZY! Why? Because when crap manifests, obviously, I am not positive enough!

BCs, I am so sorry that Mark’s truck got hit.

But after reading these thoughts, I’m glad it’s shone a light into another nook of my compulsive attitude that needs to be let go of. What you focus on might influence your own behavior, but magic thinking for good or evil, is just another form of Robot Alien.

Positive thinking helps your blood pressure, your attitude, and keeps you smiling. And smiling influences others around you to be positive with you. But it does not keep your truck safe on the road. Defensive driving skills helps there, but even that is no guarantee if a driver is distracted.

So many things outside of our control. So many things we can do to help ourselves lead happier, more meaningful lives. Like the famous prayer in 12 step programs, give me the wisdom to know the difference.

On my way to a holiday party with my voice acting friends.

I may or may not get a show out this week, so I decided to post this quick update.

Fires

We are out of immediate danger for now. All of the evacuation orders near us have been lifted. Fires still burn in Southern California and the Santa Ana winds can blow up out of the blue. So good thoughts, prayers and donations to the Red Cross, most appreciated.

Tiger

Tiger became pretty ill last night. He’s been to vet this morning and we’re watching him. Any thoughts or prayers for the little guy much appreciated.

Holiday Show

Usually, Mark and I put together a holiday show based around the greetings and items we get from BCs. So if you’d like to participate and have a holiday show for 2017 we need your greetings, stories, songs etc. by midnight Dec. 18, 2017 Pacific Standard Time.

Hope all is well with you and I’ll put together an episode when I can. xoxoxox