This is a story i came across in a book my grandmother gave me for my birthday (thanks grandma, i love it!). I thought it was such a true reflection of how women are constantly bombarded by the media and made to think we just aren't good enough unless we are this, that and the other. I hope you enjoy it as much as i did. It's written by a woman named Ame Stargensky from California:
“What do you call a spelling bee, tennis practice, a soccer fund-raiser, one dentist appointment, two sick guinea pigs, a three o’clock board meeting, and a full-time job? In my house that’s referred to as Tuesday.
Being a single mom requires stamina, patience, and the power to reshape time itself.But, alas, it’s no longer enough to be Super Mom. Every magazine cover now insists that we have firm abs, too..like a sort of Supermodel Super Mom. On the upside, I still have the body I had at 20. On the downside, it wasn’t so swell then either. In spite of my success as a mother, sister, daughter, friend, producer, writer, and school volunteer, there are three words that really bug me: “Just Do It.”
I’ll never forget the first time I saw that clearly over-caffeinated Nike commercial. It caught me off guard. I was in the middle of weeping on my sofa, having just survived a slumber party with nine little girls. They had managed to stop giggling by 2:00 a.m., and yet clamored for pancakes by six. Covered in flour, with inky circles under my eyes, I resembled something that had fallen off the back of a bakery truck.
And then there it was on the television screen: a parade of women, certainly my age, gritty determination plastered all over their perfect bodies. As they ran…over rocks, up mountains, across rivers…the sweatier and more alluring they became. Here was the kind of woman who might, in fact, be a mother, but who wouldn’t know a carpool unless she could swim a hundred laps across it.
Then came the Nike logo and that booming voiceover: “Just Do It!”
I finished my doughnut, turned off the TV, and thought to myself, Doing It is one thing, but must I Do It uphill, too?
Why did I continue to care about this slogan so much? Because, frankly, I have no time to Do It, and the older I get, the less I want to anyway. Besides, it was always my understanding that Demi Moore looks the way she does so I don’t have to. Sure, I have friends who rise with the sun to swim and run and cycle their way into tight jeans and jiggle-free miniskirts. I’ve tried, but I will never be one of them. I can’t seem to carve out the time or my glutes. I have no hand-eye coordination, limited agility, and most important, a huge genetic disadvantage: Jews don’t make the best athletes.
First of all, “Air Abramowitz” would never work on a sneaker. Secondly, we’re not movers- athletically speaking. We tend to excel at wandering. In fact, if wandering were an Olympic event, you might see more Jews in sports. But you don’t. Sure, we made a mad dash out of Egypt for the Promised Land, but the truth is, we were hoping the promise included a food court.
Frankly, I’d like to be less soccer mom and more hot soccer mamma, so I joined a gym. I’ve never actually gone, mind you, but I still love telling people that I belong to one. It gives the illusion of Just Doing It with less risk of injury. I wish I felt guilty about not carving out my own hard body, but I don’t have the time. Instead, I am thrilled by my full life if not my fuller dimensions. Yes, my abs are more washing machine than washboard, and I’ve got cleavage that’s large enough to be French braided, but I’ve finally decided that my magazine cover will just have to say, “Delicious!” If I’m going to take a big bite out of my life, then it’s sure as hell going to include dessert. I guess that makes me more of a Super-Soft Super Mom. I don’t look so good in the cape, but my daughter tells me I make a great pillow.
The more I think about Just Doing It, the more I realize I’m doing it all every day. So what do you call back-to-back meetings, Brownies, company for dinner, trumpet practice, guitar lessons, fall soccer, a new bunny rabbit, laundry mountain, two book reports, and a Margarita Night out with the girls? At my house we call that Just Doing Fine.”
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