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worthywriting · 6 years

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10 Stigmas People with Diabetes Face

Life is a funny game. Some people are dealt the cards with all the aces, while others are left wondering how the joker got in their hand. The unequal balance of triumphs and hardships in each individual's life may lead to awkward questions or stigmas that are hard to shake off and harder to answer. Sometimes living with diabetes can feel like that and bring a gnarly set of stigmas that aren't the easiest to deal with. It's not easier, but allow us to offer a little sweetness when you realize that you're not alone.

It's NOT a Preference

Vegan, vegetarian, diabetic – one of these things is not like the other. The idea of diabetes being an autoimmune disease that one is born with rather than being a lifestyle choice or personal preference is still relatively new to many people, but slowly picking up steam. So that sweetener sugar-substitute is not by preference of taste, more so because it's literally the sweet substitute to sugar.

Obnoxious Family Members

However, those who are aware of the diabetes crusade often times become the self-proclaimed patron saints of dietary restrictions, announcing loudly to the waiter that not a grain of sugar should infiltrate the food, and if theres even the suspicion of it then it's a 1 star Yelp review and a call to corporate. It's good to have people looking out for one another's needs, but sometimes it can get a little embarrassing...

Polite Conversation

Living with diabetes isn't a curse. It's not an end to the enjoyment of life, and certainly the mention of foods with sugar shouldn't be like a record scratch in the middle of a conversation. Sometimes people think that talking about that cupcake that they had last night or the new candy bar in stores should be tiptoed around like the mentioning of a recently deceased relative. But it's fine. Just because sugary sweets are off limits for some doesn't mean it's a name that shall not be spoken. As long as the enjoyment of the treat isn't gloated about, the conversation should proceed as normal.

The Mysteries of the Finger Prick

It happens, and it happens often. Currently, one common way to test the blood sugar level is to prick the finger and test the blood with a monitor as a way to ensure how the body is doing at that given period of time. But it's not so often that people are seen making themselves purposefully bleed, and it can garner the awkward gawk or two... It's not magic, no one gets a prize and isn't something that's particularly enjoyable. The less stares, the better.

“Is Your Blood Sweet?”

Perhaps it's a fascination with the scientific transformative workings of the body, or maybe just an influx of curious vampires with a sweet tooth, but the blood of diabetes is (generally... hopefully!) not tasted and can't be determined on how closely it tastes to a cherry soda

Exercise Isn't the 'Cure-All'

There are small people with diabetes, there are larger people with diabetes. Especially in the case of Type 1 diabetics when the disease is already predisposed at birth, the person's body weight may not be a factor. Long distance runners have it, casual hockey players have it, couch potatoes have it and everyone else in between.

Confusion with Other Medical Conditions

Is it the one that makes people's eyes swell? Or the one where you smell toast randomly? Or the one where magical powers are acquired by the 13th birthday? No, nope, and that's made up. There are a lot of conditions out there, and granted it can get overwhelming to keep track on what diabetes is, luckily we'll be happy to explain [insert website here]

Going to the Doctor

Going to the doctor, whether you have a condition to be monitored or not, is not always the most fun event in the world. The questions, the tests, the side eye that you swear was judgement but aren't exactly sure and don't want to say anything because you just want to get out of there as soon as possible. It's an ordeal. But luckily, empathy is a relatable trait that many doctors express well, even if they do some times give that side eye.

Always Having to be the One Who Sends Their Food Back (or Even Worse, Not Getting a Treat at All)

That dessert on the menu that you asked the waiter nearly 500 times if it was sugar-free has been brought to the table, and with only a sniff of the baked goodness, it clearly is riddled with sugar. Not fun. It's not fun to send the food back or to ask the food preparer 1000 questions only to get responses that seem half true and completely risky. It's not fun to have to ensure the dietary security of the ingredients in advocation for the safety of your life just for the morsel of an over priced treat that may in fact not even be all that tasty. It's not fun to be handed a carrot while others to munch on savory goodies. It's not fun to get the looks and the stares and hear the whispers due to getting an alternative treat. It's not fun, but it's life.

Explaining What Diabetes is to Every New Person You Meet

We're tired of this stigma, too. That's why we're doing something about it [insert website here]

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worthywriting · 6 years

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The Hoverboards Are Coming!

Hoverboards are coming. Yeah, for real this time. Back in March, the internet rejoyced as the sight of a dream come true might have arisen. Tony Hawk and Christopher Lloyd were filmed in downtown Los Angeles riding and doing incredible tricks on a hoverboard from a startup company, proclaiming that the future was here! The wheel had been reinvented! Hoverboards were coming! Skepticism of 'this-is-too-good-to-be-true' was always in the back of everyone's minds, but with the endorsement of a pro skateboarder and Doc Brown himself, (and just how freaking awesome the video looked) those thoughts were silenced. Too bad that a week later it was revealed that it was indeed a hoax. Since then, we were content with our skateboards and watching that amazing scene in Back to the Future 2, until this video came into our lives. A company called Arx Pax in collaboration with Hendo have designed and created a revolutionary way to stabilize the magnetic force of polar opposite magnets that they call Magnetic Field Architecture (MFA). For now, that MFA can only do its floaty thing about 1 inch off of the ground and only over special surfaces, yet fear not, for they plan to eventually have their hoverboards be able to go over any surface and as high as possible. And while these good people are bringing our Marty McFly dreams to life, the hover board seems only to be the bait to get the pubic's attention. Arx Pax has their sights on placing MFA within the structure of skyscrapers, hospitals, buildings of earthquake prone areas , and public transportation systems so that not only will these structures have more support, but will be able to be lifted in aversion to a flood or earthquake (whaaaaaaaat). Their kickstarter site (https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/142464853/hendo-hoverboards-worlds-first-real-hoverboard) has already surpassed their asked for funding, and they will continue to work on improving their technology for a year before they mass produce the Hendo hoverboard. So that by October 2015, we all just may be floating on air.

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worthywriting · 6 years

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Walking Styles Every New Yorker Will Thank You For

I recently moved to New York City from California, and I have to say that I am absolutely in my element here. This town is completely hustle and bustle, go, go, go, and pizza slices. Most people don't have personal cars that they drive, so walking is a must. We cross the street before the 'walk' signal appears, can zig-zag through a crowd like its nobody's business, and walk fast even when we don't have anywhere in particular to be.

I've had a few friends visit me, and often times the shock on their face when they realize how much of an art-form walking is here makes me giggle. I figured I might as well comprise a list of walking characteristics for you to put in gear if you decide to visit.

While Walking, Don't Look to the Side... or Up... or Down

If you are walking forward, look forward. If you are walking backwards, re-evaluate your life. Yes, that building is tall. And so is that one, and that one, and that one, basically every building. If you are looking up or to the side or down while walking for more than two seconds, theres a good chance you will bump into someone.

Walk to the Right

Okay, so I love Beyonce, and wholeheartdly believe that lying good-for-nothings go to the left, but when walking: to the right, to the right, everything and everybody to the right. The right side of the street that is. We walk like we drive, to the right side (for the most part at least). If you're coming out of the subway tunnel, and theres a huge group of people all walking slowly on the right side, please don't pull a fast one and go up the left side. Thats for people coming down, and they've probably got loads of shopping bags and hot coffee that won't be too pretty if you crash into them.

Do. Not. Run.

New Yorkers walk fast because of habit, not because its absolutely dire that we make that exact train that is there right this second. A new one will be along in 5 minutes. If I see you running, I'm going to assume that you just stole something (and so will that policeman).

Try to Not Hold Hands, or Link Arms

Unless you're holding onto someone who is a child, elderly, or disabled, please let go. I understand that you are your spouse are totes in luuuurve and want to display that they belong to you and only you, but someone walking in between you two isn't going to break up your bond. Its just that its much easier to walk around one person, rather than get stuck in an impromptu game of red rover. And for all of you teenage girls who like to link arms and snake through Times Square crowds like a human centipede, STOP IT.

Kindly Step to the Side

See something absolutely fabulous in a store window? Good! I'm glad you like it, and I'm sure that the store owner does, too. If you want to look at it, just step to the side, out of the middle of the pathway of walkers, and gander all your heart likes. This goes for checking maps, tour guides, searching for something in your purse, figuring out which way to go, and basically anything else that may cause a blockage

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worthywriting · 6 years

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A 5 Tip Intro to Hair Extensions and Why They're Your Friend

While watching the E! interview with the newly single Courtney Stodden (http://www.eonline.com/videos/214983/courtney-stodden-defends-plastic-surgery), I couldn’t help but notice something… aside from her gigantic bizangas (i.e. breasts), her staple of bleach blonde hair looked different. It was longer, thicker, and when the camera panned to the back of her head, I could see the bonds where her hair and her extensions met. Lets just say that I’ve seen better. But hey, if she’s happy, I’m happy! I’m especially that hair extensions now seem to be worn by not certain races or just celebrities anymore, but now by everyone!

Now I know that if you’ve never had hair extensions before, that the concept of using foreign hair as your own can seem scary/creepy/weird/wtf/kvdhwhdfwjhjknd, but don’t worry, here are a few tips to ease your nerves and help make sure that your locks look lovely, lady.

1. Everybody Wears Them

My best friend has the most beautiful blonde hair in the world. Partially thanks to $10 box dye, but also because of the perfectly color-matched hair that her now husband bought her when they were dating. My friend, who is Vietnamese, begged me to take her shopping for hair to give hers some more thickness and curl. My Middle Eastern friend, after a night of dancing, will comically unclip her hair extensions, flop on the bed and pass out to a night of slumber. Just as make-up and jewelry are items that every girl wears to give her a little more “umph”, so are hair extensions

2. Guys Don’t Care

Seriously. Unless you’re dating a cat, who absolutely must claw your head, guys don’t seem to care. When a make out session gets good with a guy, and I feel their hands edging up to touch my scalp, all I have to do is say “hold on, I’m wearing extensions, and I don’t want you to accidentally pull them out. Can you touch somewhere else?” He will gladly comply.

3. Use Hot Tools on It Along with Your Own Hair

Make sure that you get a pack of hair that says “100% Human Hair”. You can use all of your curlers, straighteners, wavers, crimpers (is anybody crimping their hair anymore?..) that you want. Wash it in the sink, or even with your own hair in the shower. As long as you take care of it, it should last you a good time. I have some hair that I’ve had for years.

4. New Hairstyles without the Damage

I rocked the ombre look without a drop of bleach or the price. All I had to do was buy one pack of short hair that was close to, but lighter than my hair color, and pin that in. Then I bought a pack of hair that was longer and slightly lighter than the first, and pinned those suckers in underneath, and viola! Lookit me ma, I’m trendy! But be careful, gluing in your extensions is not something I’d recommend. I’ve heard horror stories from friends about how they accidentally ripped out chunks of their own hair, messed up with glue, or bonded together odd pieces. You’re much safer with clipping, bobby pinning or sewing.

5. Unleash Your Creative Side

Have you ever woke up and decided you wanted a hairstyle like Shoshanna’s from ‘Girls’ that day? (come on, it can’t be just me..) Or what about one of those gorgeous giant buns for your company’s fancy party? Need more fullness? Want a color streak? Go ahead! Have fun with it! And if you’re afraid of it slipping out, bobby pins and a little teasing work wonders.

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worthywriting · 6 years

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And for My Freshness, I’d Like to Thank Mentos

In September of 2012, I was fined with a $300 ticket failing to come to a complete stop at a stop sign at an intersection that was lacking any cars, except for the police car which I didn't entirely realize was there. Being a starving student then, and frankly not wanting to pay the absurd amount of the ticket, I chose to put my wits against the justice system and attempt to fight my case. The issue was taken to court where I tried to reason with the judge that I was a student with a perfect driving record, and did make a “California roll” (slowing down to nearly 2 mph, but still not exactly stopping. Popularized by California). No dice. My case was lost and I was billed $300 for not coming to a complete stop. In retrospect, I now realize that I could have won this fight, if I had only remembered what I had been taught as a child. If I had eaten a drop of Mentos candy before my trial and then shown the roll of savory mints to the judge, he probably would have laughed, smiled, thought I was a cheeky, clever kid, and I'd be $300 richer. But because of my lack of 'freshmakers', I was forced to pay off the fine.

I didn't realize it as a child, but these commercials that sold chewy mints, were teaching me, nay! Molding me. They molded my mind to detect absurdity, comedy and most certainly, opportunity. And as these commercials molded my mind, the worked from their own mold to make multiple ads that followed the same classic formula to sell the same product. They always start off with a few signature introductory music notes, always recognizably associated with product being sold. Which leads to the now infamous jingle:

Do do do dooo, do doo, do waaaah! It doesn't matter what comes, fresh goes better in life, With Mentos fresh and full of life! Nothing gets to you, stayin fresh, stayin cool, With Mentos fresh and full of LIFE!!! Fresh goes better! Mentos freshness! Fresh goes better with Mentos, fresh and full of life!

Mentos: the freshmaker

A jingle thats more suited to be said by the hero of a Hollywood blockbuster movie to his troops before an important battle than in an advertisement for mint flavored candy. Yet, perfectly suited to allure even the blind into temptation by only hearing the mint's spoken representation. With the solo singer passionately belting out a triumphant pep talk in stanzas 2-5, and then to be accompanied by a chorus of singers in 6 and 7, one can't help but sing along with them as a sort of chant to taunt the day with whatever may come. The enthusiasm alone is enough to replace a cup of morning coffee with one stick of Mentos.

However, the good people in advertising did make these visual commercials, and along with an inciting jingle to the formula, they added the same scenario with the same outcome. Principal character has problem, principal character eats a Mentos, principal character solves problem, everyone is happy.

Mentos commercials displayed problems that happen to everyday people in everyday life: a ball gets accidentally kicked into the neighbor's yard, a suit is ruined by a wet paint bench, a heel breaks off of a shoe. All of these instances are mere annoyances that can conjure up three possible solutions. Solution One is to wallow and cry, call the day a loss and go home and mope in a bucket of ice cream. Solution Two will be to quietly handle the problem like a grown up in a cordial manner, making sure to dot the “i”'s and cross the “t”'s. Its no fuss, no muss, and as if the problem never happened. Solution Three is to handle the problem, but with pizazz! Pop a Mentos and get creative with the strategies to get through the day, because not only are the people who eat Mentos great with thinking on their toes, but bystanders will be impressed with the cheeky maneuvers. Nothing gets to those who eat Mentos. Mentos eaters don't do the walk of shame, they perform the strut of pride. Strut down the street living life on the edge, for this was the perfect time to do so, and no one but an old square would have opposition. As the saying of the decade went: It's the 90s.

These commercials in essence were the attitude of the 90s. The 90s weren't wild like the 1920's, or radical like the 1950s, or even rebellious like the 1970s. They were a time when the hard work of climbing the corporate ladder in the 80s had paid off for the young adults and children of the working stiffs. Past generations had put in their blood sweat and tears for this Generation X to now relish in where the biggest problem of the day isn't whether an army draft letter would come in the mail box, but more of how to get the waiter's attention. That bottled mineral water isn't going to get itself, after all. They were a time to think alternatively, to be edgy, to truly try and distinguish one's self from the others on the same adequate scale. It was a time of blue hair and skin tight neon green shirts and going back to college... clown college that is, all just to be able to say “I think differently. I am alternative” and where else would be the best place to start than with a harmless mint. Not only is it a good place to start, but all of the people who already think out of the box wouldn't go a day without one, and even people who want to be clever here and there eat them too.

As a child of the 90s, myself, I vividly remember the atmosphere of the decade and how these cornball commercials perfectly went with the slammin' aura. Mentos ads featured young, attractive optimists, with perfectly coifed hair and dressed in trendy clothes (most likely from The Gap), who turn their minor inconvenience “lemon” situations into sweet, triumphant “lemonade” once they pop a mint. And after all, why not pop a mint to help you through your day. The marketing execs must have been well aware of the cleaning up of the streets where hot off the trails of the 'Just Say No' campaign of 1986 arose. Instead of popping pills, why not just have a Mentos? Caffeine pills will give the jitters and ecstasy is illegal anyhow, but a fresh and delicious Mentos will have people smiling at you because of your decisions.

Not only are these advertisements attempting to appeal to the young bloods in hopes of making 'candy popping' the hip thing to do, but they are trying to make it attractive to anyone who wants to have a great day with an obstacle that they overcame in a worth talking about fashion. The actors are attractive, they handle these little life annoyances with style, and people smile at them once they see the Mentos. Who doesn't want to be that person? That person must have a great time in life. Solving problems in a risky manner + Mentos = getting away with stuff that normally might get you reprimanded. Not only is there nothing to lose, but it'd be silly not to.

There is a an unspoken reason why the actors in all the commercials are somewhere in their 20s, with the most in vogue clothes of the time, great hair and smiling faces. Its to make the consumer want to be that person. That person is cool, that person is skilled, that person is eating Mentos. If the consumer wants to be cool, skilled and appear to be attractive, then they should eat Mentos as well. Though it might be unfair to say that the only people who have the ability to solve problems eat Mentos, it is not what the commercials are saying at all. Others might have the same problems, and solve them just fine, however.. no one will be smiling at them or think they're clever. But with Mentos? After any problem is solved with that signature spunk, it will be smiles! Smiles, everyone!

In making these advertisements, the creators were very focused in catering to the sense of emotional feeling. The ads display how the actors feel once they succeed in their given barrier after eating a mint, or how they felt before. Not one of the ads displays the user enjoying the taste of the product or the breath freshening effects. They're enjoying getting away with minor inconveniences in the most alternative ways and then flashing the candy as a sort of 'get out of jail free' card. The mint itself is never shown. Its size, shape and color are all hidden by its stick-like packaging proudly exhibited by the principal character at the end of every commercial in a 'thumbs up' manner. Or 'F-you', depending on how one looks at it.

Mentos wants the viewer of the commercial to know one thing: Mentos knows you. Mentos gets you. Mentos wants you to be happy and for others to be happy for you. Through everyday situations, when the car keys are forgotten, when some jerk parks too close to your car, or even when that lady who catfished you finds you and chases you through the mall, pop a Mentos, and let the creative juices flow. Be fresh and full, and full of life.

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worthywriting · 6 years

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404

do not give me nothing. If you give me nothing, I will return to you nothing, but explain to you in great detail of why this nothing is. If you give me a dot and ask for a mountain, I can make you a landscape. If you give me a brick and as for a house, I can build you a city. If you give me a dream and ask for a hope, I can give you reality. But if you give me nothing and ask for nothing, then the most and the least that I can give you is nothing. There is so much potential, so many ways of up down and whichever ways to go that it is too overwhelming for me to conspire. The nothingness can be seen as clarity, emptiness, realization, peace, fear, whatever you like, but it will still be nothing. And to some extent, I kind of like that.

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worthywriting · 6 years

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Tick

“Veronica! What a pleasure to see you! Come in! Please, please. Have a seat. We're very glad you have you.” The grandiose door swung open to the man that she'd seen once or twice before. His face, the odd mixture of a cherub and grandfather, had an exaggerated smile drawn across it today that made his features look oddly contorted and pulled. Last time she saw the man was at the family press event. He glided into the room with purpose after the cameras had stopped taking the photos and spoke to the interviewer with a very serious tone about him. Pointer finger strong and straight, shoulders square, eyes darting. The assumed natural state of the man then, quite the opposite of the forced glee that scrubbed his face in front of her today.

She smiled politely and took a seat across from the man's outstretched arm.

"Thank you for taking time out from the press junkets and hoopla of the engagement to come and talk with us. I've seen when this family has gotten engaged before and it looks terrifying!" the man laughed with fake charm. His crooked teeth bearing like a guilt ridden animal. He knew nothing about the feelings of the family, and probably didn't even care, but he did know how he wanted the family presented, and that is why she was here.

"Of course. I did have about an hour to breathe today, so I figured why not spend it with you." she croaked. They feigned a plastic cackle.

“Well, Veronica, let me get straight to the point of why we asked you here today. I just want to say welcome to the family! We love your look. Your charm, your characteristics, it's lovely, it really is. We will be delighted to have you, and the history books, well of course they'll be forever changed! They'll practically be rewritten with you fitted in them!” The man spoke of the family as if he was somehow related to them by any strand of DNA. Today he grinned at the joy brought on by having someone 'like Veronica' to be a part of such a hierarchy and produce lineage of 'alternative decent', but she knew of the roaring objection the man put on when it was revealed to him that she was a potential wife. The outsider waved his sun spotted, wrinkled hands in a put-on show of celebration and smoothed then the wire-like hair on his head. Pompous and curt. The man continued on. “The future heir is going to be quite a fortunate child to have you and Mathias pass down such exceptional genes.”

"Thank you. I'm happy to be an engaged woman and am looking forward to starting this next chapter of my life." Her rehearsed lines sounded stale to her ears.

"Excellent! I'm thrilled that we're on the same page," he nodded. "So we've set up an appointment for you with Dr. Sal Richards Tuesday morning. We'll send a car for you and give you a list of his requirements before you come."

“That sounds good. But why should I see him now? Mathias and I haven't even got married yet, we're not going to even try for a child until a few years from now."

“Yes, but this doctor is to make sure that.. everything goes.. as it should. As desired." The edges of his lips spasmed, almost as if his body was in a struggle to smile for politeness and remain stern for the gravity of what he was attempting to imply.

"Do you mean in order for me to have a healthy pregnancy?"

"Yes, yes, of course. Healthy, and desirable"

"Desirable.."

"Yes."

"As in the gender is already decided?"

"Yes! You understand. The gender, among other things"

"...I'm not sure, I'm not sure if I understand.."

"We just want to ensure that your most... Beautiful features.. Are inherited by the future children."

His wrinkle ridden face lay stout, eyes locked on her. Daring not to flinch.

"And what would my 'most beautiful' features be exactly?"

"Well," the cheeks on his cherub face blushed slightly "um... To start, if we chose to have a girl, we're going to want her to inherit that ... frame of yours. It's the perfect size, especially for someone of your decent...” Her eyes widened with the slightest frame of shock, noticeable, yet still composed, unwilling to give him any indication that his words could ever affect her. Catching himself in the gaff, his lips stuttered. “B-b-but for any decent really. It is, if I may say so a rather brilliant figure, to say the least. So we would want that for the heir... and as you fit right in with the stature of the family because of your petite frame... as will she."

"So, body proportion and height.."

"For a girl."

"And what if I have a boy that is my height?"

"That won't be acceptable. He'll inherit Mathias' height"

"But what if he just comes out as my height. I'm not that much shorter than Mathias."

"No, it won't be acceptable and so it won't happen. A son needs to be the height of his father."

"But sometimes sons are shorter than their fathers."

"Veronica...” His flushed cheeks now turned to a full illuminating red of his entire face. This was the state of the man she'd generally seen him in. “It won't be acceptable and so it won't happen. That's what Dr. Richards is here to make sure of."

"What if he inherits my small shoulders?"

"No."

"My nose"

"No."

"My skin tone."

"Definitely not."

The room grew chill.

"My long legs?"

"Yes. But with the build of Mathias'."

"So essentially his legs, rather than mine."

"Yes."

A strong silence.

"And Dr. Richards is here to ensure all of this."

"Yes."

"This sounds like picking snd pulling special parts of two people to make your own creation. It's Frankenstein. It's eugenics."

"Eugenics?! This is not what we are doing here, miss. That is a blatantly radical form of controlling mechanisms to racially homogenize a population. That is not our business here. We are here to make sure that this family remains the strong figurehead that it has become. We're here to be that beacon of light to the millions of people who look up to this family for guidance and inspiration. This isn't some nazi experiment that we're conducting with you. It's lineage. We let Mathias chose to marry whomever he wanted, and he chose you, and we have accepted you. Welcomed you with open arms, we want you to contribute to this dynasty and as a part of this family--"

"--Me, or only parts of me?"

"Veronica, look, the world is in shambles. The planet is overheating. Political warfare is ensuing. People are ripping one another apart purely based on phenotype. We are aiming to stop that --"

"--Now." Veronica's sharp tongue stopped the man in his tracks. He knew that she was referring to her future mother-in-law and her experience with the family and experience with the man all those years ago. He'd seen the mother reach out her beautiful slender hand to place on Veronica's shoulder for a chat right after he requested this meeting. He saw the way the two beautiful women connected on the experience of marrying into such a lavish family. Their glistening eyes being the mediums to develop a kindred spirit between the two of them, gaining trust and support from one another, being informed on the procedures that the man and Dr. Richards were going to invade her body with. Picking and prodding to create 'the most desired' child. The mother still had the external and internal scars of being good enough for her husband, but not quite enough for the biased. Even though her experiences were decades ago in an even more stigmatized society than today, it still managed to bring a tear to her green eyes. He saw the way the mother looked at him from across the room as she audaciously removed her Sunday hat to expose her sandy blonde hair, a seemingly innocent act had she not missed her last hair dyeing appointment which was religiously scheduled every two weeks but the family's staff secretary. The man's jaw and brow grew stiff and he watched on. He quickly looked to the last photographer in the room, who, lucky for him, had his eyes focused on his camera, looking through the photos taken earlier the day. He noticed that way the mother slightly tipped her head, and even though he wasn't in earshot to hear the details of the conversation, he could tell by the way she gently smoothed her hand over her hair that she was revealing a string of the man's concealed web. She glared at him once more before she put her hat back on, covering her scarlet colored roots.

"We've always been very inclusive." The man continued, "And anyone who begs to differ, can come and see me personally. I don't doubt they know exactly where to find me.." He gave Veronica a knowing look that projected the image of who really wore the crown in the family. "We're not here to erase you Veronica... But just to enhance your offspring. A touch of your tone will still be there. The kinks of your hair will be visible, but for the most part... More manageable and loose. You straighten your hair everyday anyhow, do you really want your children to endure that, too? To make it in this dog-eat-dog world, you not only have to be the best, but to make no doubts about the fact that your children will, too. 'Hoping for the best' doesn't cut it here."

The man walked with his natural frump over to his desk where a picture of him, his wife and children was placed. Ugly little things, yet smiling on vacation. He sat down and began to write. His head completely focused now on his work. The light from the ceiling lamp bounced off the back of his head. Veronica knew that this was the end of the conversation and began to walk out.

"You're a very beautiful and intelligent girl, Veronica." His voice called, head still down. "And we're investing in you to make sure it stays that way."

Veronica made her way to the exit the room. She made her way to the hallway where Mathias was there, finishing up a conversation with his father, a mirror image of the stunning young man. They both saw her and smiled.

"How did it go?" Mathias asked.

"It was fine. Your mom prepped me for it." Veronica answered.

"Oh she did? How would she know what he was going to meet with you about? What did she say?"

"... Don't worry about it."

"Well, I'm just glad that you're here. I know how nervous you were about it. Did you... uh...” Mathias gave his father a quick look and lowered his voice. “Did you have any ticks?"

"Yes, I did. But his head was down, so I don't think he saw." Veronica's eye twitched.

"Alright, well...” Mathais' father began. “Don't worry, no one but the immediate family has to know about your condition. It's mild. You're not shouting expletives or clucking like a chicken every five seconds. It shall stay between us. No one will even utter the word Tourettes. We love you no matter what. I can't wait for you to be a part of the family."

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worthywriting · 6 years

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Princess

It was finally my day. Finally the hour. The morning had been filled with the things read about in the tabloids and newspapers; the official photographers with granted badges were in my room before I even woke up to document every step of the day: the opening of my curtains, the kiss from my mother and father, the dressing in the traditional garb, the stuff that the public loved to read and would cut out of the magazines to save in their own family history scrapbooks. The later morning parade where I was ushered by great-grandmother's horse carriage, leading me to the balcony where I made my speech that I'd been working on since I was sixteen. It went over well and won over the public. Much of the common sayings were thrown in there, metaphors, public pleasers, some lines from a ghost writer, it would all sound good in the press. The luncheon was delicious. Leaders of their own nations were there, stealing me away every 5 seconds to give me a personal congratulations, advice and best wishes on success for my new role. After being stolen away by a lavish woman of which country I couldn't even pronounce, my mother tapped me on the shoulder. She had the look in her eye. We walked, just the two of us, through the hall to some secretary's office right around the corner. My hour.

“Here you are, girl. Make us proud. Congratulations. You're a lady now.”

The golden dagger gleamed in her well manicured hand as she placed it in mine. Mom gave me a wink and left the room, carefully shutting the door behind her. It had minor stains of dried blood, not fully wiped off on it. Different tones of red and maroon, each wiped off a different way. Different people, different times. My hands cuddled my new possession, then tucked it inside the pocket my mom specially sewed for it in my officiate dress. “Oh,” she said. Her head peaked in through the door. “Don't forget to buy a handkerchief for that. Theres a great store off of Second.”

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worthywriting · 6 years

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Modern Times

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worthywriting · 7 years

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I Love Barbie-qua

“What outfit will I wear today? Maybe the totally cool striped purple shirt with the glittery shooting stars on the sleeves.. or perhaps the rad jeans with the daisies going down the leg. Hmm, I haven't even tried on that mini dress with the unicorn silhouette yet.. it'd look great with that gold lamé jacket I have in my closet. Oh, so many fabulous choices! I better hurry and make a decision before work starts! Hmm.. I wonder what I will be today. Maybe.. a.. police officer! No. I don't have that uniform yet. Um, how about.. a ballerina! No. I lost the tutu. A teacher! No, I did that last week. Oh, I know! I'll be a movie star!! Yeah! Oh, and my best friends Jessica and Mallory can even star in the movie with me! This is the best idea ever!” I joyously proclaimed as I tossed Keisha, my favorite Barbie doll into the air. This was my routine as a young child. I would go to school during the day, and once the bell rung, I'd dash home to my room where my imagination was complimented by the ideal-looking women of my dreams: my Barbies. My most treasured possessions. These doe-eyed pieces of plastic got me through the happiest and most difficult times in my early years, which could be trying for a little black girl growing up where the only other one of her skin color is non-existent. Non-existent that is only if you don't count Keisha. Keisha the black Barbie doll. Keisha, my girl.

I grew up in a middle class home, in a middle class neighborhood, where I attended a middle class public school; and for nearly every year, I was the only female of a darker brown skin tone. The majority of my classmates were of Asian decent with pale skin and long, flowing, shiny black hair. Now, as a 23 year old adult, I look back at my elementary class photos and see that I clearly stand out like a sore, brown thumb. My frizzy, black hair in 5 ponytails, all placed around my head with barrettes jingling at the ends was always a thorn in my side. My brown skin, caught every hue of the light that shone on it to make me look as if I were made of a precious copper. Though I didn't see myself as something so precious that way back then. My classmates were of my envy, for they could ride the swings on the playground and look as if they were a beautiful bird as their pale skin tuned nearly to white in the gleams of the sun and hair flapped like wild fire with every sing pump going higher and higher. The only times I was aware of my hair having any movement was when one of my nuisance barrettes would poke me in the eye if I turned my head too fast. Being of this decent felt like a curse, a pain and incredibly lonely, that is until I'd go home and play with my girl Keisha.

Keisha, my beautiful black Barbie, was exactly what I needed in order to feel like it was not only okay to be me, but that I was indeed, fabulous. She was pleasing to the eye, had a great body, smart, funny, intelligent, basically anything and everything I wanted her to be. This creatively formed piece of plastic became a letter that I was writing to my future self. When I would play with her, that was my voice, my thoughts, my dreams being acted out vicariously through her in hopes of one day that I would act those things out once I was old enough to do so. Because I spoke my dreams through her in playtime, and could see and physically “make” this gorgeous brown figure “go to work” as a doctor/artist/airplane pilot, I could envision myself as the real life version of a gorgeous brown figure doing such. Barbie is essentially a voodoo doll without the voodoo. Little girls play with the doll because that is who they want to become when they grow older. They don't see the gigantic breasts or unrealistic waist. The only reason I picked up on those traits as a young girl was because of the older women who would ridicule my beloved for her appearance. And as a child, hearing these things from my elders, I would go along with them and call Barbie a “bad role-model” or “ridiculous imagery”, because I wanted to fit in with these women. But as I have grown up, I am beginning to see things in a different light.

I am black Barbie. And as such, I don't appreciate all of the negativity. For years, I was fed the ideas from smart, educated women that the Barbie doll, no matter what shade, was a bad influence on the very vulnerable mind of a young female and that she caused them to compare themselves to the plastic beauty and feel bad that they “weren't as beautiful” or “thin”.

Barbie is criticized because she's thin and beautiful and it is said that little girls don't need that comparative pressure. But what if you are thin and beautiful? This is not teaching young girls that Barbie's look is unrealistic, but how to compare themselves to an inanimate plastic object. Because Barbie is given the personality of being happy with herself, having great friends, being beautiful and thin, the willingness to try new careers and has a pension for pink, she is put down by women. This behavior starts with Barbie at a young age, but moves on to real women of the same aura once older. Women who are beautiful, uncommonly thin, tall and have multiple talents are more likely to be talked of in an ill nature or looked at through green eyes than seen as just another fellow female in the world trying to make it. It seems as if a woman can't have too many good things going for her to be considered fair game. Though the male kingdom goes through this in minor degrees, it is far more prevalent amongst women. Boys aren't told at their tender age that the muscles on their action figure are unrealistic, or that even though G.I. Joe has kung-fu grip and karate chop that he's a bad role model because the majority of real men can't do that. Once men grow older, even if they have a pot belly and work at McDonalds, when they see a man with rock hard abs who can carry a tune at karaoke and is a plastic surgeon, they're more likely to say “wow, he's pretty cool. He must work out”. If a woman in her adult years who is even slightly overweight and has a decent job, sees another woman who is a great singer, rail thin and is a doctor, shes more likely to be called “.. bitch..”. The lessons learned from the ones who give us the toys are the actions played out as we progress into adulthood.

Unfortunately, I feel that Barbie is put down by women who feel that they are below par of a certain shape/career level/ideal of beauty that they, themselves want to be, which renders into jealousy to be put on a smiling plastic object that can't fight back. If the Coca-Cola bottle instead of a regular cap, had a cap in the shape of an attractive, female head, I'm sure Coke might be regarded in the same way.

I grew up continuously hearing the slogan “Real women have curves”. What does that mean? I'm not a real woman? When truly thought about, the words have quite a bite. Real women. Real women. Its saying that women in the living, human world are supposed to be shapely, a bit more “meat on her bones”, and that if one isn't that way, then she is fake. Like a Barbie. But as a woman, myself, who has been a size 00 since 12 years old and lacks the curvature of womanly hips, this slogan is a stab in the heart. Am I not seen as a real woman by my fellow females because my genetics didn't include a set of hips? Am I to be regarded as a fake woman, just a plaything by men until they can find a real woman with 'childbearing hips'? Is it seen as okay to call me a “fake” woman because I am beautiful and talented like my friend, Barbie? What if I weren't so facially fortunate? Homely. Would it still be okay to say I'm not a “real” woman? My talents, gone. Still okay? I understand that the slogan is a way for the women who weigh more than 100 pounds to make themselves feel desired and beautiful as well, but the name calling is a terrible approach.

By no means am I attempting to make a claim that being thin and beautiful is a burden, but more trying to make the argument of that there is a big problem with women transcending their frustrations onto a simulation doll instead of joining together with other women to make sure that the future generation grows up as content with themselves and others around them as possible. Barbie is a doll. Barbie is plastic. Barbie can't walk into a married human man's office and seduce him to run away with her. Barbie is only a tangible extension of imagination for young girls to get the wheels turning for what they'd like to become in the future. Which is incredibly important for the young, black female.

Little black girls need Barbie. She might just be the only other female of color besides family that the child becomes familiar with, and even though Barbie is an extension of the child's imagination, its important for her to give the doll a voice, one that the child would like to hear that sounds pleasant and relatable. Black Barbie is beautiful, just like the other Barbies. Black Barbie is tall, the same height as the other Barbies. Black Barbie is slender, just like the other Barbies. There is nothing that says that black Barbie is in any way inferior or unequal to her lighter toned counterparts, the only difference is a change in shade.

Though Mattel was criticized by the way they created the first black Barbie, Christie (1968), simply by using the same facial feature template as 'white' Barbie, but only with brown skin and hair in a small, big, loosely curled black afro, I personally feel that that was the right and best choice for them to do for the first of the kind. As African-American women come in a wide variety of shapes, sizes, hair types and facial features, anything too over done or not done enough would have resounded in an incredible backlash from the black community. If the nose was too wide, the charge of racism would have been applied by the black women with narrow noses. If the hair was too coarse, then the black women with straighter hair would have cried intolerance. The best thing to do was to simply dye the already loved 'white' Barbie a common shade of brown and give her some snazzy clothes to ensure that racist disputes couldn't be made, for she was exactly the same as her white counterpart.

Since then, Mattel has come out with a wide variety of extraordinary versions of black Barbie which range from noses wide and narrow, to dreadlocks and braids, to light-skin to dark skin, to brown eyes and hazel eyes to everything in between. They even have a new line of Barbies entitled the S.I.S (So In Style) Collection of African-American Barbies of different skin shades, hair types and personal styles for every little girl to envision herself as.

Barbie is a friend. Barbie is a vision tool. But Barbie is plastic. Barbie is not real. She is around to support little girls in their dreams and goals and be there even if no one else understands. Her flack is great, but importance is greater. As one who grew up to be Barbie, I know that the way in which I view her as a valuable tool for young females might be a bit biased. Some might feel that along with the skin color progressing, that the weight needs to be altered as well, and to that I wholeheartedly would agree. Fuller figured Barbies to a point, would be a delightful addition to the Mattel line, not only for the girls of fuller figures, but for the ones who already resemble Barbie to become acquainted with, too. All women of strong life choices need to be represented. Every girl should have a Barbie, because whats learned from Barbie is learned for life.

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worthywriting · 7 years

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Not So Swift Taylor

I sit here, attempting to write this article, a bit perplexed. Allow me to explain.. As of this day in 2013, I am currently 23 years old, soon to turn 24 before the year ends, and will be eligible to have my right to a quarter-life-crisis next year once I turn 25. My life journey is a busy one, and seems to always form a lump in my throat that drops down to my stomach as I realize that I have to purchase a larger cake to fit my growing amount f birthday candles. Already I've attended baby showers, weddings, and graduate school graduations all of people who are of, or just a few years around my age. When I go on dates now, I can't help but actually take them seriously, in hopes that it might work out, date for about 2 years, get engaged for 1 year, wait to have children for 2-3 years after marriage, and give birth to all the children I want before 35. These things have to be planned now. I'm not a young girl any longer. – No one looks at me and thinks “sweet, young, innocent girl” and I am thankful that they don't. With this age comes responsibility and a grander level of associating with the world. However, one female in particular is thought of getting by as 'forever young'.

Taylor Swift, the American singer who banks on songs she writes about her ex-boyfriends and being a 'nerdy girl' delights in being thought of as the Madonna of the Madonna/Whore complex. She writes her music that speaks to the tween generation and will pout and call those “mean” who make even the tiniest bit fun of her. She loves being the thought of as that “sweet, young, innocent girl”. Theres only one problem that I have with that. Taylor and I are both the same age. Born in the same year. She is 23, and so am I.

I would love to present on academic journals of well thought out semiotic analysis of Swift's character, whether for the childish way she portrays herself, or against, but as I've searched the internet and book shelves high and low, I could not find one article on 'Swifty'. I'm unsure why her character has yet to be analyzed to a scholarly degree, perhaps she is still seen as too pure, and unfair game.

There was an article, however, that caught my fancy, granting me with a good amount of inspiration. Barbara Read's article, Britney, Beyonce and Me – Primary School Girls' Role Models and Constructions of the 'Popular Girl',is one that takes a truthful look at what it means to be a 'popular girl', any perks that come along with the status and its effect on young females. The article thoroughly explains why young females, as opposed to young males, may feel they need a role model to look up to, and takes a poll among the girls for data of who they admire at their certain age.

Read argues with support of a poll from school children, that most young girls would like to be the 'popular' girl, such as Beyonce or Britney Spears because it seems as if they have power and status which is what females tend to desire even if only subconsciously. This comparatively is what Swift, by way of her “young, innocent girl” demeanor is using to her advantage to tap into the psyche of that girl who idolizes Britney or Beyonce. What Swift is attempting to do is take the stigma of being labeled a “young, innocent girl”, or more frequently as she refers to herself, a 'nerd', and use it as a badge of honor. This is not a horrible idea, and in fact, I say “kudos” to the resistance of accepting the weight that comes with a called name and changing its definition to fit one's self. Where I feel she goes horribly wrong is that after claiming her name, she then goes after the 'popular' girls and makes fun of them for being who they are. She clearly states that there is an obvious paradox between her and the 'popular girl' in her 2009 hit, You Belong with Me.

“But she wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts/ She's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers/ Dreaming bout the day when you wake up and find/ That what you're lookin for has been here the whole time/ If you could see that I'm the one who understands you/ Been here all along so why can't you see?/ You belong with me/ You belong with me” (You Belong with Me, Swift 2009).

There's never any mention of how the said 'popular girl' has a bad personality, or may be a gold digger, or has a record of battery and brutality or anything. Swift leaves it up to the listener (and viewer by her music video) to come to the conclusion that because the 'popular girl' does cheerleading, wears skirts and is a favorite among school peers, that she for some reason is the enemy. The character that Swift portrays as the better option is the girl who is in the bleachers because the plays in the school marching band, wears t-shirts, and is lesser known around the school. There is a clear statement that one is better than the other, and that certain traits label the female that choses to take those traits on must abide to and hate her opposite, with no just reasoning, for. Is it that Swift is taking an eye for an eye in hopes of making herself look better than the one who called her the name in the first place? Possibly, yet it seems more that Swift put the 'nerd' label on herself rather than being her own woman. This is a song of hate, attempting to pit female against fellow female in strategy of winning a taken love interest by fighting dirty and hitting below the belt for no good reason.

One might have the argument that at the time You Belong with Me was written, Swift was 19 years old, and thus still being a teenager in her last teenage year, is granted the permission to still write songs as such to get her angst out. Yet, in 2013, as Swift is 23, her single, I Knew You Were Trouble, was released on the public with the same tone of whiney lyrics, giving the impression that she mentally remains a child and feels that the blame game is becoming.

“Once upon a time a few mistakes ago/ I was in your sights, you got me alone/ You found me, you found me, you found me/ I guess you didn't care, and I guess I liked that/ And when I fell hard you took a step back/ Without me, without me, without me” (I Knew You Were Trouble, Swift. 2013)

This is only one of the many songs that Swift has written where she plays the victim. Each time she writes a new song, it is unclear which of the 14 (yes, 14!!) men she has been romantically linked to since 2008 that she is singing about and whenever prompted to reveal who in an interview, she shys away from the question. Many of these love interests lasted for only a month or so, but still get a whole song dedicated to how shes so hurt, or they're mean, or she didn't know.. but what kind of sweet girl dates around so much and then, to add injury to insult, writes bashing songs about them. Not a very wise decision for someone of Swift's fame to do, especially when in the balancing act of wanting to get back at an ex and remain “America's sweetheart”, her balance may be becoming increasingly uneven to her once loyal fans as they begin to notice the many boyfriends and lack of mental growth in romance and the art of handling personal situations.

The image of a sweet, innocent, young, bubbly (and most often times) blonde singer singing songs of sweet love and dreams written down in her diary is one that is meticulously crafted by the big wigs of the entertainment industry, and once the perfect girl is found, the label will be attached to her until by her own demise, she messes it up by being human. This is, I feel, the case for Taylor Swift. Even though Swift is pop, has always been pop and has always had a very pop sound, when she first broke into the world of music back in 2007 with her first single, Teardrops on My Guitar, this girl from the city of Reading, Pennsylvania, was marketed as a 'good ole country girl from Nashville' who was brokenhearted because a boy broke her heart and now the only thing she could do was cry as she strums her guitar out in the country.

That single became a big hit with females who could empathize with Swift and felt that as a good American girl from the country, that the boy who broke her heart must've been a real jerk. But the single when released was in fact released as two singles. One with more of a country twang, and the other with light pop overtones, and since her debut back then, the music she has produced has been overwhelmingly induced with a pop vibe rather than her original market of country, yet she still is thought of as a country artist and is often nominated every year for the Country Music Awards. From time to time she might wear a pair of sparkly country boots on stage at one of her concerts and pretend to play guitar, but as far as being country goes, thats about it for her.

The more dominant pop stars of the 10's new millennium are wildly unafraid. Stars like Rihanna and Lady Gaga frequently forget their pants in favor of wearing a bedazzled pair of underwear on stage instead. Marijuana is the drug of choice that they without shame will publicly toke up. The world of pop music is dominated by females in their early 20s who are not afraid to show skin, sing songs filled with innuendo and move in a sexual nature. These females aren't thought of as young, innocent girls; they're fantasized as musical sex objects. So, with the perspective of how pop stars generally behave/dress/present themselves, it does make sense that to introduce a new pop star, but with a lighter, sweeter image, the music industry will attempt to sneak one in, faintly disguised as country music. Swift doesn't prance around in the latest fashion bikini, or flip off the paparazzi as they snap her photo, for she aims the keep her role of childlike innocence. But the problem is that Swift is a child no longer, and is only looking more pathetic with age. And attempting to keep up with the image, though growing older each day, might end up blowing up in her face by way of her fans not buying the role any more, as was the case that Melanie Lowe explains in her article, Colliding Feminism: Britney Spears, “Tweens and the Politics of Reception”.

Lowe's article is a study she conducted where in 1999, at the peak of American pop's wave, she surveyed the thoughts, comments and reactions to the most popular pop stars, with the most famous being Britney Spears, the happy blonde from Kentwood, Louisiana. She explains that as soon as she sat down with these “tween” (ages 10-12) girls and merely asked of their opinion on the pop princess that they had a wide variety of opinions ranging from waning admiration to most notably the calling Spears a “slore” (slut and whore). These reasons seemed to stem from Spears's progressively changing wardrobe from t-shirts and fashion-friendly cargo pants to belly baring crop tops and ripped jeans. Not only was it the fashion, but the way in which her songs were becoming more blatant of its innuendo. The tweens said of how they liked that she had and exercised her right to wear what she wanted, yet at the same time they found her promiscuous for doing so. The classic case of being dammed if you do, or dammed if you don't.

While I do feel that Britney Spears's path, one where she was initially and continuously marketed as an innocent, young but sexy pop princess, may have been a tad different from the road Taylor Swift is going down, I still feel that the reaction by the tweens and general public will be the same. As of lately, more and more fans of Swifts are beginning to take off their rose colored glasses they'd been disillusioned with and are starting to recognize Swift's stagnant ways in which shes not growing with her fans, but more trying to recruit whichever age is currently in their tween years.

Swift is not a nice, country girl. She never has been, but for a while she put up an almost believable front. There are only so many girls she can point the finger at before the ladies ban together and realize who the true mean girl is. There are only so many guys she can date before the public sees her as the common link and figures out that she is the problem. There are only so many times she can sing her hit single '22' until she realizes she's 44. It's past time to grow up, Taylor.. either join the real world, or save up enough money to purchase the Neverland Ranch.

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worthywriting · 9 years

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Today I am Thankful for: a new apartment room. After living in my new apartment room for 5 months, I had to move. Luckily, I happened to find a vacant room literally the next street over. A place where I am still in my neighborhood and close to everything that I need. I’m thankful that it worked out so well. When faced with an unfortunate situation, worry was proven to be unnecessary

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worthywriting · 9 years

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Today I am Thankful for: texting. Even though I moved to a far away land years ago, texting has made it feel as though I never left some people; Like my most favorite friend all the time. If shes not immediately available, she’ll get back to me when she can. If I’m not immediately available, I’ll get back to her when I can, yet the support and appreciation has no delay.

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worthywriting · 9 years

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Today I am Thankful for: my roommate. I’ve lived with many different people in NYC, and for the most part, I have to say that I’ve been pretty lucky. But currently, I have a roommate who is just outstanding. Nice, friendly, helpful, an will take care of business if a pickle arises. Basically the kind of roommate that I always wanted and that everyone should have

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worthywriting · 34 years

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Walking Styles Every New Yorker Will Thank You For

I recently moved to New York City from California, and I have to say that I am absolutely in my element here. This town is completely hustle and bustle, go, go, go, and pizza slices. Most people don’t have personal cars that they drive, so walking is a must. We cross the street before the ‘walk’ signal appears, can zig-zag through a crowd like its nobody’s business, and walk fast even when we don’t have anywhere in particular to be.

I’ve had a few friends visit me, and often times the shock on their face when they realize how much of an art-form walking is here makes me giggle. I figured I might as well comprise a list of walking characteristics for you to put in gear if you decide to visit.

While Walking, Don’t Look to the Side… or Up… or Down

Walk to the Right

Okay, so I love Beyonce, and wholeheartdly believe that lying good-for-nothings go to the left, but when walking: to the right, to the right, everything and everybody to the right. The right side of the street that is. We walk like we drive, to the right side (for the most part at least). If you’re coming out of the subway tunnel, and theres a huge group of people all walking slowly on the right side, please don’t pull a fast one and go up the left side. Thats for people coming down, and they’ve probably got loads of shopping bags and hot coffee that won’t be too pretty if you crash into them.

Do. Not. Run.

New Yorkers walk fast because of habit, not because its absolutely dire that we make that exact train that is there right this second. A new one will be along in 5 minutes. If I see you running, I’m going to assume that you just stole something (and so will that policeman).

Try to Not Hold Hands, or Link Arms

Unless you’re holding onto someone who is a child, elderly, or disabled, please let go. I understand that you are your spouse are totes in luuuurve and want to display that they belong to you and only you, but someone walking in between you two isn’t going to break up your bond. Its just that its much easier to walk around one person, rather than get stuck in an impromptu game of red rover. And for all of you teenage girls who like to link arms and snake through Times Square crowds like a human centipede, STOP IT.

Kindly Step to the Side

See something absolutely fabulous in a store window? Good! I’m glad you like it, and I’m sure that the store owner does, too. If you want to look at it, just step to the side, out of the middle of the pathway of walkers, and gander all your heart likes. This goes for checking maps, tour guides, searching for something in your purse, figuring out which way to go, and basically anything else that may cause a blockage

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worthywriting · 34 years

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10 Stigmas People with Diabetes Face

It's NOT a Preference

Obnoxious Family Members

Polite Conversation

The Mysteries of the Finger Prick

“Is Your Blood Sweet?”

Exercise Isn't the 'Cure-All'

Confusion with Other Medical Conditions

Going to the Doctor

Always Having to be the One Who Sends Their Food Back (or Even Worse, Not Getting a Treat at All)

Explaining What Diabetes is to Every New Person You Meet

We're tired of this stigma, too. That's why we're doing something about it [insert website here]

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worthywriting · 35 years

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Walking Styles Every New Yorker Will Thank You For

I recently moved to New York City from California, and I have to say that I am absolutely in my element here. This town is completely hustle and bustle, go, go, go, and pizza slices. Most people don’t have personal cars that they drive, so walking is a must. We cross the street before the ‘walk’ signal appears, can zig-zag through a crowd like its nobody’s business, and walk fast even when we don’t have anywhere in particular to be.

While Walking, Don’t Look to the Side… or Up… or Down

Walk to the Right

Okay, so I love Beyonce, and wholeheartdly believe that lying good-for-nothings go to the left, but when walking: to the right, to the right, everything and everybody to the right. The right side of the street that is. We walk like we drive, to the right side (for the most part at least). If you’re coming out of the subway tunnel, and theres a huge group of people all walking slowly on the right side, please don’t pull a fast one and go up the left side. Thats for people coming down, and they’ve probably got loads of shopping bags and hot coffee that won’t be too pretty if you crash into them.

Do. Not. Run.

New Yorkers walk fast because of habit, not because its absolutely dire that we make that exact train that is there right this second. A new one will be along in 5 minutes. If I see you running, I’m going to assume that you just stole something (and so will that policeman).

Try to Not Hold Hands, or Link Arms

Kindly Step to the Side

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