“This is a man’s world, but it would be nothing without a woman or a girl.” – James Brown

For the last 10 years or so, all I’ve really wanted was to be Nigella Lawson when I grow up. 

In case you don’t know, Nigella Lawson is, among other things, a food writer from England.  She refers to herself as a “home cook” but she has had many TV cooking shows on the BBC over the past decade and is a genuine celebrity in England.  Now, after years on the Food Network, she has a prime time TV show on a major American network called “The Taste”.

I can’t watch “The Taste”…I find it really inane, but I still love Nigella so much.  Her charisma, her obvious distain for “rules” and “authority”, her reverence for the classics, her passion for Italy and her attitude towards cooking and life in general all speak to me.  I admire the fact that although she grew up rich and “upper class” (which still means something in England), she has overcome childhood abuse, many painful losses, and several humiliating recent events, and still she manages to be grounded, strong, humble, authentic and unashamed. 

I adore people who have some tragic story to tell and yet you’d never know it.  They don’t act like victims……they seem to have it all, but you just know that all that pain has built an interesting, strong character with great stories to tell.  Plus, in Nigella’s case she’s sexy as hell and has that amazing accent.  What’s not to like?  She seems to have the ideal life and be the ideal woman.

I met Nigella once in 2005 in Toronto at a cookbook signing at a book store.  Indigo’s website said that Nigella would only sign one book - her newly released book - and only if we bought it there at Indigo.  I did buy her new book for her to sign.  But I also brought along with me a huge box filled with all seven of her previously released cookbooks – all First Edition hardcovers  – hopeful that she would also sign all of those for me. 

The fact that I dragged all these books with me to meet Nigella is classic Laura.  I know the rules; I know the limits……and?  Rules and limits are for everyone else……I can do whatever I want.   I was the first child of two pretty conservative, young parents who had no idea what to do with a willful child who questioned everything and would not obey or take no for an answer.   They both always said “no” to everything, all the time….it was just their automatic reflex to say no - out of fear, I think.  They were both extremely protective and wanted to shelter me.  But I had no interest in being sheltered and I wasn’t afraid of a damn thing.  So when they said “no”, I heard “yes” and it became my mission to get them to say it too.  Unfortunately, I never outgrew this.

Anyway, my aunt Joan went with me to meet Nigella, and we waited in line, with me pushing the box of books up the aisle with my Doc Martens as we got closer and closer.  Joan is quite an eccentric, bold, loud woman with her sky high heels, expensive clothes, bright red hair and giant hats.  She has a habit of creating a scene wherever she goes.  She is my godmother and was my hero growing up…I always wanted to be just like her, flaws and all.  And age has not mellowed her one bit.

When we got up to Nigella, she asked me what I had in the box.  So I showed her the books I had brought with me and she thought it was hysterical.  Much to the annoyance of everyone behind me in line, she didn’t blink twice…she signed each and every one of those books with a personal message and talked with me while my aunt attempted to take pictures of the two of us together with my camera.  My aunt kept “accidentally” turning off the camera instead of taking pictures so it turned into a scene from a bad comedy with Nigella’s people helping my aunt take the pictures and everyone behind us in line completely frustrated by the both of us. 

Luckily, Joan always wins everyone over with her “ways” even though they are usually cursing her while she does it.  That’s exactly what happened on this occasion.  While she hammed it up and played quite dumb with the camera on purpose to delay the line from moving, she got the people at the front of the line involved and in the end, they all loved her.  This gave me a lot of time to talk with Nigella and she did not disappoint me.

I don’t know when I first starting thinking of myself as a feminist.  It’s been pretty much a part of my identity for as long as I can remember.  Even when I was young enough that I didn’t know the word or what it meant, I was determined to hang out with my dad in his garage while he fixed cars; and be an apprentice in my grandparents’ plumbing business; and never get married but if I did, I would keep my name and have my own separate bedroom; and definitely NOT stay home and raise the kids and let my husband tell me what to think and how to act and make all my decisions for me. 

Many women, including my aunt and Nigella, have really been living examples for me of what it means to be a feminist.  I adore “strong” women (and men!) and that strength shines in so many different ways. 

March 8 was International Women’s Day.  March is Women’s History Month (here in the US and in some other parts of the world; in Canada and others it is October).  Between those two events, my birthday last week and all the changes I’ve been experiencing lately, I have been thinking a lot about what feminism means to me now, at this point in my life.  My feminist ideals are near and dear to me, but I have been realizing that “being a feminist” has lost meaning for me and it’s time to re-examine that. 

I haven’t really thought about this for years….probably not since I volunteered at the sexual assault support center in the 90’s.    When you are involved in a non-profit organization, whose goals are to specifically help women, you tend to get very involved with the politics of feminism.  The whole time I was in university, I belonged to the Women’s Centre and I also chose Women’s Studies as a minor.  I read a lot of feminist theory, I studied the history of the Women’s Movement, and then I volunteered at the sexual assault center.  So throughout my 20’s, I was pretty entrenched in feminist ideology and surrounded by other people who were also entrenched in it.  The language, the dogma becomes second nature…..I really didn’t even think about it ‘cos I was IN it.

I know the word “feminist” scares/bothers/repels a lot of people.  It can be a really divisive word.  Even among feminists it can be really divisive.  A lot of people feel “feminism” is only for white, liberal, middle class, heterosexual women and there’s no room for anyone else.  Then there’s the whole question of whether or not men can be feminists.  A lot of women – both young and old - don’t want to identify as feminists because they’re afraid of being seen as extreme.  As astounding as it is to me, there is still this idea that all feminists are femi-nazi man haters who want to push men down while they build themselves up.   I’ve always been kind of an extremist so I’m not afraid of being labelled that way…but feminism is not about hating men or being an extremist.  It’s not about taking anything away from men and it’s not about women being able to do whatever they want and get away with it in the name of “girl power”. 

I think people would be less afraid of the word if we all spent more time actually talking to each other about our beliefs and our lives instead of letting one word loaded with assumptions do our talking for us.  People can get so worked up about the silliest things – like the weather, traffic, whether or not McDonalds has the McRib or Shamrock Shake right now - but when it comes to important issues that could literally change our society, people just can’t be bothered.  Unless we’re talking with a bunch of like-minded people…then of course we can really get passionate.  But that’s not how we change the world, or ourselves. 

Since I moved to the States, I have realized just how many words there are that have that same polarizing effect as “feminism”.  The word describing almost any religious or political group:  “Christians”, “Muslims”, “Conservatives”, “Libertarian”, “Liberal”, “gun rights advocate”….and on and on it goes.  These are really all just labels and don’t tell the whole truth or story about the human condition.  We assume - based on one word - that we have nothing in common with someone or have everything in common with someone.  If we could ignore these labels and try talking to one another, we might find we have more common than we thought and these words would seem less extreme.

I don’t want this to turn into a feminist theory lecture, but I think it’s important to identify what exactly feminism is.  A feminist supports the rights and equality of women.  That’s it.  If you think women should be treated fairly, then guess what?  You’re a feminist!  Feminism is the movement that supports this work.

Both men and women all over the world work hard so women have choices about how they live their lives and have access to opportunities just like men do.  It doesn’t matter what choice I, as a woman, make with my own life…the important thing is I have choices.  I suppose this is debatable but, men don’t benefit from sexism.  And men are very much affected by feminism.  It’s not about men and women being the same and equal in every way, or putting one down so the other can benefit.  It’s about making sure that everyone’s rights are protected.  So it’s really important that men are also involved in feminism. 

For me, the most important quality I can possess as a feminist is strength….having a strong mind, a strong body, strong emotions.  I admire this in other women, I admire it in men.  But to just say that is not enough.  Talk is cheap….what matters is action.

Up until now, I always looked outwards to find my muse.  For the last 20 years, I didn’t see anything inspiring about myself at all, probably because I couldn’t bear to look at myself and see anything positive.  I could only see flaws.  But last week, I turned 45 years old.  That is a very surreal thing for me.  Like a lot of people my age, in many ways I still feel like I’m 16, but – if I’m lucky – half my life is gone.  The years have flown by and some of the stories from my life seem like a movie I watched on TV.  Did that really happen?  Why did I allow that thing that happened to knock me down and keep me down for so long? Why am I still dragging all that around? 

I can’t worry about all that though.  What interests me at this point is how I choose to live now.  From this point forward, I just refuse to have regrets.  Jessica and I talked about this the last time I saw her a couple of weeks ago.  It was the first time I had seen her in 6 weeks and she suggested that we should have one more appointment on May 8 and then, if I was feeling ok about it, she would discharge me.  She asked me how I felt about that.  I thought for a second and realized I felt great about it!  No more therapy….that’s awesome!  Six months ago, that would have terrified me. 

But while we were talking, it occurred to me that all the things I admire about Nigella and my aunt and all the other women and men I admire, I could say about myself too…… if I could see past my flaws.  I’m starting to understand that although other people can provide us with inspiration, it becomes a slippery slope from inspiration to hero worship if we’re not careful.  If I simply admire someone else and don’t allow the inspiration to move me into action then what is the point of being inspired?    Then I just start to live vicariously through those who are just simply living their lives….they’re living, I’m watching and before I know it, another 20 years has passed.  Most heroes don’t set out to be heroes…they just live their lives and make mistakes and get up and try again and sometimes something beautiful happens as a result.

So yes, my aunt and Nigella do provide a strong feminist framework for me.  But I am also now realizing that I need to be my own muse.  I need to allow my strength to shine and have the courage to live my life the way I want to and appreciate myself the way I admire other people. 

This realization is instigating quite a shift in my life…in the way I think, the way I live and the way I treat other people.  I find I have more patience, more compassion and am less judgmental, and much more tolerant, especially towards people who have different opinions than me.  I find I am way less interested in television, even shows I have watched for years.  I am just suddenly really not interested in pretend people living their pretend lives and am much more interested in real people living their real lives. 

One thing that I have become very aware of in recent months is just how insecure I am about my looks and body, which completely conflicts with what being a feminist means to me.  Now, because I hate seeming vulnerable in any way, I am aware I don’t allow that to show very often.  Only people who know me in certain situations might believe it, but it’s true.  I am desperately insecure.  I am a bottomless pit when it comes to flattery and compliments.  I can never hear enough and I never really believe them anyway.  But I find insecurity to be a really unflattering quality in a woman my age, with my awareness…it just is.  Don’t I have anything better to think about?  Nope, nothing else on my mind today….. just how pretty I look.   At this moment in my life, this is the quality I am the most intolerant of about myself and it has got to go.  I am just not that vacuous a person and this quality makes me feel like I am.

Part of being a strong woman, for me, means being in charge of my sexuality.  I’m a really sensual person so sex is really, really important to me.  In spite of my addiction, sex actually matters to me.  But it’s good sex – no, GREAT sex that matters to me.  When I treat it like an addiction, it’s just to feed my insecurity.   I know, it’s a shocker….I’m a feminist but I really like sex and I really like men.  And…get this…..I like men to be dominant.  I’m not really into bondage – not that kind of dominant - but I like the kind of guy who takes charge.  That does not threaten my feminist ideals in any way.  I’m not going to pretend otherwise.  I own my sexuality.  It’s mine.  I’ll make choices about my own pleasure and hold my head up high while I do.  From now on, I don’t make choices about sex from a place of shame or lack of respect…..for myself or my partner.

And lastly, being physically strong gives me the confidence to both kick my insecurity and be in charge of my sexuality.   I mean, I am nowhere near where I want to be in terms of physical strength but the important thing is, I am working on it…actively going for it, not just sitting around dreaming about it.  ROC Boxing is seriously one of the best things in my life right now.  I can’t even say how much I love being there.  Everyone is so supportive, friendly, helpful and inspirational.  And having aching muscles at the end of the night is ridiculously gratifying.

I gotta say, the last two weeks have been really hard for me in terms of diet.  There have been a LOT of birthdays, parties, events.  While I haven’t necessarily eaten too much, I have been eating all the wrong things and it has been difficult to get my head back into the right way of eating.  I have gained 5 pounds in the last two weeks.  I have a follow up appointment with my surgeon tomorrow and I’m going to keep the appointment, and take the ass kicking I know Dr. D is going to bestow on me.  Not only should I not have gained 5 pounds but I should have lost another 10 so I’m not showing the results I did at my last follow up.  Six months ago, I probably would have postponed the appointment until I lost the 5 pounds.  Then I’d start telling myself what a failure I am and I might as well give up.  And then I’d never lose the 5 pounds…in fact I’d gain 5 more.  But that’s definitely not happening right now.  And I could not be happier.  I no longer want to be Nigella when I grow up…I just want to be myself.

The return of Random Stuff:

·        I love the smell of rubbing alcohol.  It’s a throwback to my childhood.  (My dad has type 1 diabetes.)

·        I hate the smell of insulin.  That is also a throwback to my childhood.

·        I love the smell of diesel.  Makes me want to go on a road trip.

·        I love kissing someone who just drank Jack Daniels. It’s even better than me actually drinking Jack Daniels.

·        I love sipping Hennessy cognac in front of the fireplace after work.

·        The gastric sleeve is my fifth surgery

·        I don’t have my appendix or my gallbladder

·        I’m missing half my thyroid

·        My stomach is now ¼ its previous size

·        I have my first tattoo idea all ready to go and I know which studio and artist I’m going to use….excited!!

·        Don’t be surprised if in a year from now I have many more tattoos.  I love body art.