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Oprah's Weight Battle Will Do More For Women Then Sarah Palin Ever Did

Oprah is mad at herself. 

According to an article in the January issue of O provided early to the Associated Press, she wrote:

“I’m mad at myself. I’m embarrassed. I can’t believe that after all these years, all the things I know how to do, I’m still talking about my weight. I look at my thinner self and think, ‘How did I let this happen again?’”

I mean, really, it's OPRAH! It's been a big year for O, she won an election for goodness sakes.  I am a long-time, avid follower.  I own her DVDs.  I bought a subscription to her magazine even though she's the only one on the cover (ever.).  I saw the Color Purple and, although it's a talent I typically reserve for nights where I've indulged in the 'bubbly', I can recite many of the lines from memory with the *perfect* accent. LOL!

I tried Dr. Oz's Green Drink.  I went on the Debt Diet.  And to take it even further I have a picture of Oprah, as a little black girl from Mississippi, sandwiched in back of the Moleskine where I write my daily affirmations. I looked just like her when I was 5.  When folks were jocking Sarah Palin because of what she allegedly did 'for women everywhere', I went and read Oprah's Live Your Best Life because Sarah Palin didn't do squat for me, a little black girl from Houston...   

If anybody has the right to be critical of Oprah, it's me.  I am so vested in Oprah's success, because deep down inside it dictates my own.  I don't like it, but that's the way it works.  Personally, I stopped grading her and started just started supporting her ages ago.  It was easier that way.  Simply put, she won me over in a major way. 

However, I for one, am glad to see that Oprah is mad at herself.  While it is difficult to feel sympathy for someone who earns a 9-figure income in times like these, I can't help but acknowledge that Oprah moves markets.  Penelope says I should pay attention to her movements.  So I did.  And as a result, I sympathize. 

Sure, some will argue that her very public battle to be 'thin' will send a bad message.  Those people are short-sighted.  This is about something much bigger.  This about learning how to focus your emotions to the right place. 

From this moment on, many women will be learn that it's okay to be angry at themselves.  Sometimes, it's your fault.  Most times, it's your fault! This, my friends, is a great thing.

Here's what you can take away from O:

1. Anything worth achieving is worth focusing on DAILY--Weight, like many vices, does not just sneak up on you. You don't just wake up and have 30 extra pounds.  It is accumulated pound by pound.  Not noticing it, or refusing to acknowledge it, before pound #30 is the same problem that plagues people who have trouble saving money.  It represents the inability to appreciate baby steps; the refusal to see that very few things in life 'just happen'. 

Success in anything is the result of daily, deliberate, incremental steps.  I'm convinced that a heightened sensitivity to the way your actions effect the universe is something that comes with age.  And watching Oprah at 60 years of age, I'm also convinced that a heightened sensitivity to the way your actions effect the universe is no easy feat; even if you have a billion dollar brand that creates movements.

2.  Fear is very, very real--When people say they aren't scared of anything, I'm almost positive they don't know themselves well enough.  Oprah says her fear of her thyroid condition kept her from working out.  Even with all of her fame and all of her access to the best of any and everything, Oprah stood afraid literally paralyzed by her fear.  Anchoring awareness in your fear will inevitably help you in the long run.  I'm telling you, it's worth confronting the notion of 'success' to ask: what am I really afraid of?

3. Transparency is a dish best served early--When you have an active group of followers, it's important to be honest with your struggles and keep us updated before the shit hits the proverbial fan.  If we're a part of your tribe, when you win, we should all win.  And on the flip-side, when you're struggling, we should know why you've been trippin' lately. 

All through life we are praised for being first, but in this context, we're often criticized; labeled as attention-seekers.  There really isn't really a short-term benefit to being the first to be brutally honest.  I believe that it is this expectation of reward, and the later disappointment, that thwarts people from being candid.  Real, candid honesty requires a trust in karma and goodwill.  At the end of the day, you have to just 'know' that we'll still be here when you come out of it.  Those that aren't, just aren't.  Those that are, should be cherished. 

4.  Keep it simple--I love the way she chose to say it.  First, it's in print (my chosen medium).  By not speaking it (her chosen medium), she is allowing her tone, intent and state of mind to be dictated by the reader.  That's a raw position to be in.  Then, she just said it. "I'm mad at myself."  Point blank. Man Down. 10-4, Over.

Those 4 words carry more weight than anything else.  The absence of cliches and calculated fillers like, "it's just that..." and "maybe because of..." made her message resonate with me.  Right on, girl.  If you can't get mad at yourself, you can forget getting better.  The way I see it, someone needs to be disappointed when you fail to practice what you preach, and usually, it ain't gonna to be the choir...

Marinate on that.

So I leave you with one of my favorite quotes from The Color Purple, and I suppose I stand corrected: if anybody has the right to be critical of Oprah, it's Oprah: 

Shug: More than anything God love admiration.
Celie: You saying God is vain? 
Shug: No, not vain, just wanting to share a good thing. I think it pisses God off when you walk by the color purple in a field and don't notice it

The Measure Of A Leader

Words like 'I'm sorry' or 'forgive me' don't come easily for most. 

Today, less than two weeks before Christmas, I fired a woman.  Last week, when she told me that I reminded her of her daughter, I smiled.  This week, when I told her she was no longer employed with us, I said "I'm sorry."

A long time ago, someone in HR had a spot to fill.  This woman came in looking for something part-time to keep her busy during the day.  The HR hired her with no qualms and put her in the open spot.  Sink or swim.  Everyday she came in and gave her personal best.  She was in a key position so whenever we would have corporate visits, she would always be sure to wear a shirt with a collar.  I liked seeing that kind of effort. 

Unfortunately, the role wasn't a good match for her.  Normal tasks were a challenge and she struggled with the level of accountability that came with the job.  She started sinking fast.   

When I met with her a month ago and expressed my concerns about her performance, she said she understood and that she would try harder.  I observed her for the next few weeks and saw her trying to figure out why her best just wasn't good enough.  It made me kind of sad in a way that was all too familiar. 

I was proud when she stopped blaming herself for not being 'good enough' and started to see the disconnect between what she was good at and what the position required.  I saw her humbled and reaching out to other people for help.  I liked seeing that kind of effort.

Today, as she shook my hand and said, "thank you for the experience," I told her that I wished things could've been different from the very beginning.  I truly do.       

First jobs are often meant to be a headline story in our lives.  They are mentioned in the stories you tell your children right after you mention how you walked 5 miles in snow to cut firewood and kill bears.  Ironically, this wasn't her first job, or even her second.  At 60-something years old, this was probably her last job.  Instead of being a headline in her life, it will be the story that her children tell their children.  It will be what they vow to not do--grow old, retire, work again, work hard, only to be let go.       

The measure of a leader is discovered in many different ways, but ultimately, it is an innate understanding of psychology that separates good from great.  Knowing how to trust in my sense of what is right, learning how to deliver difficult messages, and reacting to unplanned situations have proved to be invaluable throughout my career. There has to be an appreciation of angst, without actually having the angst. 

So I guess the moral of this story is in the beginning, there was desperation, and in the end, there is still desperation.  One got her hired and the other got her fired.  

I've always found it amazing that two people can experience the same thing and have completely different reactions.  For this reason alone, I believe that there are certain emotions worth practicing because you don't get a second chance with most people or most situations.  Desperation is a key example. 

Today I fired a woman.

Blogging Was Easy Until My Blog Came Up At The Dinner Table

I read this article about beauty today. In it, the author parallels "pretty" and "beautiful".  The author says that "prettiness is the enemy of beauty--the blandness and acceptability of pretty cancels out beauty's greatness, grandeur and presence."  While there is acceptance in pretty, there is power in beauty. 

Beauty isn't traditional.  It isn't symmetrical and it darn sure doesn't always make sense.  Frances Bacon, a 16th century philosopher, once said that that "there is no excellent beauty that hath not some strangeness in the proportion."  Despite the difference in era, this concept of beauty seems particularly right for now. 

"We crave beauty because of it's rarity", Emma Summerton says.  She goes on to say how notions of beauty are entirely immediate and personal.  "Beauty", she says, "is directly related a moment and a reaction to something."

"It's like pain.  What matters is the experience of it in the here and now." 

Believe it or not, I have been writing. It is writing that is unapologetically honest.  I've written about what it's like to not have a holiday every year.  I've written about pride, ownership, and entitlement.  I've written about love and how it's not all you need in life.  And I've written about the notion of not being able to choose who you fall in love with.  I'm not done yet.   

I've written about how something must be wrong with me because some of the best things in my life are not, as previously promised, free.  In fact, some of the best things in my life are what are preventing me from quitting my job.  Catch 22, anyone?     

None of it is pretty.  But I think it's beautiful prose.  And in the spirit of being nonsensical, I want to shout it from the rooftops.   

Unfortunately I've been scared to publish my writing ever since my blog started coming up at the dinner table. 

First it was in passing.  My dad was mingling with a group and someone pulled it up on their blackberry.  I felt a little exposed, a tad misunderstood, but at the end of the day, I got over it.  Then Shannel and I were enjoying pancakes when she told me she read my blog and wanted to start one of her own.  I chewed my bacon and spit out some encouragement.  I think people should be able to do whatever they want to do. 

Most recently, I went to homecoming at my beloved alma mater and was reunited with my girlfriends.  While in the midst of a collective Ya-Ya, a few admitted that they too had read my blog and sometimes worried about me.  Sigh.  But again, at the end of the day I got over it.      

I've found that dinner table dialogue is oft indicative of a turning point in my life.  When I wanted to move 400 miles away from home as a teenager, we talked about it at the dinner table.  My parents let me go and it changed my life--I learned to be responsible. 

I remember when I recognized the exact moment my name started coming up at dinner tables as a manager.  All of a sudden, spouses 'knew' me, kids 'knew' me, and everything I did or said was open to their interpretation.  My sense of purpose had transformed from a job to a duty.  I was affecting other people's lives and in turn, it changed my own.  I learned how to be thoughtful.     

Being the subject of dinner table dialogue makes you focus on how you're accepted instead of just whether you're accepted.  The 'how' is life changing, folks.  Ultimately, you learn how to be grateful. 

In theory, everyone has their own life litmus test.  It's been said that Madonna uses Frida Kahlo's My Birth as her litmus test.  She uses peoples' reactions to the painting to determine whether she will or will not get along with them.  It's that special to her. 

Someday, someone will read my blog and use it as a test for me.  They will determine whether they will or will not accept me simply based on my words.  It may be a soul-mate.  It may be an employer.  It may be someone who has the capability to change my life.  If I am misunderstood, I wonder if I will just get over it.   

My blog is at the point where it needs structure.  Adding a focus will help me to post regularly and fine-tune my writing skills.  My blog needs a goal.  But I feel like I need to decide whether this blog was a creative decision or a business one, and I'm struggling with the either/or.  The struggle ain't pretty.

Irreverent mixes have always been appealing to me.  From leather and lace to business and blogging, for me, irreverent mixes are beautiful.  Beauty is some strong stuff and keeping this blog beautiful may be the direction I take.  Everything has a cost.   

In the meantime, thanks for reading.  Tonight I talked about you at my dinner table...