I have the most wonderful interns this year. Three are friends and one is from a completely different school, but the three are totally inclusive with her. They're self-motivated, able to work consistently without supervision, don't need hand-holding even if not given all the nitty gritty information. Last year I couldn't leave the interns alone for a second or they'd start goofing off and gossiping. These kids know the art of working while they gossip! Two are dating and I didn't even realize, they just seem like tight BFFs. It makes me hopeful about the workload we have before the big annual garden party fundraiser.

ION, the artist who is installing at least 30 pieces of sculpture on the grounds can't get through his head that we a very family-friendly public space and that he really needs to make sure his sculptures can't be dismantle or spun to whack people or tipped over (some of the pieces are 600 pounds and very vertical with minimal stability). His response was that if someone breaks it, my work is paying for the damages. Dude, I know it's a temporary installation, but it should be safe for wherever it's installed, for however long.

I literally don't remember having a looks-related crisis. I guess I've always known I was OK? Not the best, not the worst. True when I was 7, true now!

Yeah, me too. I remember when I was 8 or 10 or something like that, watching Miss America and someone telling me I couldn't compete in pageants because I would never be tall and I was, I don't know, relieved that I didn't have to aim that high? It was freeing.

Weekend plans: mother's day with mom, lunch or dinner and a concert. Other than that, what I want to do is watch a lot of TV and do some housework, I will probably indulge myself in that (for example, I am way behind on Grey's Anatomy but still enjoy it when I get a chance to catch up a little)

I did have various style phases: 7th grade, wanted to be (and was!) Different. 8th grade, wanted to be (and was!) Just Like Everyone Else. But in my memory, I just felt like it and did it.

I was a cute kid: [link] but my mom was a model before she met my dad, and I really bought into the idea that she was what I could never live up to. Factor in that she is tall, lanky, and has no bosoms (basically the opposite of how I'm built), and my Body Image Demons had a specific person to point to so they could say "Why don't you look like THIS?"

So here I am at 41, and when my mom saw a picture of my wedding dress [link] her reaction was "Wow! I would love to wear that dress myself!" And my reaction? (Which was in my head, because I am not *always* a dick.) "Lady, that dress would look RIDICULOUS on you. It's cut for a woman who has curves and a most ample bosom." (Seriously, my rack looks AMAZING in that dress.) (Now, there are MANY dresses she can rock the hell out of that *I* could not wear, precisely because of how she is built.)

And when I realized my reaction was *not* self-loathing, or "Yeah, she really would look way better than me in that dress," I thought -- where did those Body Image Demons go? I didn't hear them leave. Huh.

Damn, that is a gorgeous dress and you will look amazing in it!

But in my memory, I just felt like it and did it.

This was me. I stole my dad's flannel shirts, shopped at Structure, a men's clothing store, wore bandanas and engineers hats and muslim hats. The only time I felt traumatized by how I "looked" was when one of my best friends mocked me for wearing "the same clothes" every day, because I was raised that if it wasn't dirty, it didn't need washing, so I had some sweaters and overshirts that I loved that were over my other clothes, and therefore I treated like outerwear, like jackets, and wore quite often.

And even now that I am overweight, the people who know me just see me, and they're always telling me how nicely I clean up and how cute I look, so I know that they're just seeing me as I am, my personality, and not the skinny seventeen year old me that I still aspire to be, and that all the criticism is self-inflicted (and mom-inflicted). I still delete every company photograph that I can get away with, though.

I feel bad mostly for my mom, whose photos of me clearly show that she thought I was a damned sight to see during my stint in the Army (yo, I used to be HOT) and used to tell me proud stories of how people would take pictures of me playing in the fountains in Boston. But we share genes and are now both chubby bunnies. I knew my glory days were over when the carpenter mistook me for her. That burned, and then I felt guilty for feeling angry. Because I love my mum's child-proof edges, despite that her weight causes her pain. She's my mum, in whatever incarnation. And I'm Julie, whether I'm hot and skinny or well past Rubenesque.

Damn, that is a gorgeous dress and you will look amazing in it!

I saw it in copper first, and it really made me gasp. I think I said, "This is AMAZING!" But copper is not a great color on me. So I kept looking for dresses, but kept going back to look at the copper one, and at some point I realized it came in that blue, which is spectacular.

I was never tied to the idea of a white wedding dress, although if I found one that made me gasp, I would have been all over it. I asked Tim how he felt about me not wearing white, and he was kind of waffle-y...until I showed him the dress. He hesitated for about 3 nanoseconds, and said "Get that dress. NOW."

It fits perfectly and just needs to be shortened, for lo, I am a wee tiny person when it comes to off-the-rack clothing.

That dress is gorgeous, and you must be gorgeous in it!

ION, damn, Scandal.

How does the cloth feel on that dress, Teppy? I'm leery of anything polyester because I dislike the way that feels against my skin.

Also in Body Demons, puberty was quite generous to me, and my mother was horrified at the way my bustline came in. The little shits that are middle-school boys didn't help with my self-conciousness of my developing figure. Smocks were very popular at that age, and that's all my mother wanted me to wear, so as to hide me. We had an immense fight in college when I bought a black velour top that was the opposite of smockish. She never came out and said anything about looking slutty, but she was certain I was wanting *that* kind of attention.

My relationship with her was fraught. Her funeral was fairly revelatory when I found out my sisters had issues with her as well.