I wore polka dots today

polka dots are the new black
…and felt like an idiot. Why? I think polka dots are adorable. They are playful and happy and youthful which are traits I value. And the outfit I had on was classy and cute. So why did I feel anxious that someone might pop over unexpectedly and see my polka dots? I’m not sure, but I changed rather than further contemplate the issue.

I think that maybe polka dots aren’t me. Whatever that means. Like all women, I have a closet full of clothes that I never wear. Truthfully, my closet is a schizophrenic mixed bag pining for psychiatric intervention. I must’ve worn these styles at one time, but I guess I’ve changed. Or, more likely, they were never me. I just didn’t know it, because I was adept at changing me to be a part of the crowd du jour.

I don’t think men are this way. A couple years ago, a friend and I took a getaway to Mexico for a few days. We hung out under a big beach umbrella, two pale obviously-American chubbies in a sea of gorgeous foreigners. The women were thin, tanned, and beautiful, but they couldn’t hold a candle to the men. Unbelievably fit, glistening brown skin, boy shorts. At once holding a cigarette and a partner’s perky breast, we couldn’t stop staring at the men.

When the couples eventually got up and dressed, the guys wore capri pants, silky dark shirts, and closed-toe leather sandals. But even through my drool I knew that, were I given the chance, I probably wouldn’t date any one of them. Seriously! They were not my type.

As pretty as the beach boys were, my type of guy doesn’t spend much time thinking about his hair and wardrobe. A makeover is buying his favorite shirt in another color. I’ve never succeeded in slipping Bruni Maglis over his tennis shoes, nor a man purse over his shoulder. Even the plain front/pleated front battle can rage for days, so sartorial transformation has never been in the cards. Men know what they are comfortable wearing, and are usually unwilling to indulge our female fantasies. Truly, I wouldn’t want it any other way.

If men can stay true to form, why do women’s closets suffer from bipolar disorder? Are we multifaceted and complex, or are we being unduly influenced the expectations of our mates, the opinions of our friends, and the daily media mind fuck?

Though my closet doesn’t reflect it yet, my chameleon days are over. I am newly unapologetic about my hairstyle, my yoga pants, and my Doc Martens. When I dress up I usually wear black from head to toe. I don’t show a lot of skin, and hide my few curves. I wear simple earrings, no other jewelry. I no longer worry about fashion trends, because I refuse to be trendy.

My manner of dress is merely an outward manifestation of the natural, unadorned, athletic, private girl that I am. I cover my body in such a way that I’m not constantly mindful of the fact that I’m wearing something. Something that feels foreign and awkward. Like polka dots.

Tim Russert a victim of misinformation

The endless hand-wringing and speculating are making me nauseated. That Tim Russert died unexpectedly of a heart attack was not, or shouldn’t have been, unexpected. Tim Russert had both diabetes and heart disease. Tim Russert was on blood pressure and cholesterol medications. Tim Russert was following his doctor’s admonition to exercise daily and watch his diet. None of these prescriptions did a damn bit of good prolonging his life. Obviously.

So who’s to blame? The doctors were merely dispensing good sound advice as taught to them in their Big Pharma Schools of Profit-Generation, more commonly referred to as medical school. The pharmacists were fulfilling their oath of office to faithfully lick, stick, count and pour — never question. Big Pharma was doing what they always do, maximizing profit with egregious disregard for truth. But, as per usual, the most culpable is the whore known as the FDA.

If anyone would’ve told Tim Russert to keep his homocysteine levels low — homocysteine causes plaque to stick to artery walls and can lead to hardening of the arteries — by loading up on B vitamins, he’d likely be here today. If health professionals would have told him that the number one cause of sudden-death heart attacks is magnesium deficiency — magnesium prevents blood clots, dilates blood vessels, and can stop the development of dangerous heart irregularities — and that cardiac patients and diabetics are most at risk for this, he’d likely be here today. If his doctor would’ve told him that regular vigorous exercise produces free radicals that attack healthy cells and often does more harm than good, he’d likely be here today. What’s most likely is that Tim Russert never heard any of this.

The drug companies know these things. But, of course, there is no money to be made by enlightening the public about vitamins and minerals. No treadmills to be sold by championing an evening walk or morning yoga. We can’t expect soulless bureaucrats to do the right thing. But we can expect our government to safeguard our interests.

The FDA needs to start funding pure research, with only knowledge as its goal, to discover natural solutions to our many health woes. The FDA needs to watch over our food supply so that it isn’t stripped of vitaimin and mineral content for the benefit of corporate interests alone. The FDA should extract fees from pharmaceutical companies to pay the salaries of independent ethical researchers. And the FDA should ensure that doctors and the public understand simple paths to good health.

Don’t get your hopes up. Without public pressure, and we’re too uneducated to even know what to press for, there won’t be any positive change. We’ll continue to be shocked by sudden deaths, scared by known unknowns, comforted by Big Pharma minions who ramp up their efforts to catch a silent killer before it strikes again. And the beat goes on. For some of us. For the moment.