BITCHIN' & CRYIN'

Tonight's launch of Bitchin' Bodies was more than I ever dreamed. Have you ever heard the caution of being careful what you wish for because it just might come true? If not, let me just say ignore it. Dream. Dream big. Dream bigger than you think you can dream. And be ready to cry when your dreams come true in ways you didn't imagine.

Yes, I did shed a few tears tonight and in the days leading up to tonight. As women, strong bitchin' women, we think that we must hold back our tears. Crying is bad. Crying is a show of weakness. While many people may think this is all tears represent, tears are so much more. I will be completely honest and admit that I am one of those women who have an ambivalent relationship with crying, especially in public. As a strong, feminist activist I think that if I cry I am living up to all those stereotypes of women. But, crying is simply a physical demonstration of strong emotion. I have reluctantly embraced my desire, and my need, to shed a few tears -- even in public. Sometimes, especially when we are personally and emotionally involved in an issue, we feel that stinging at the back of our eyes, the pre-crying Oh Shit! moment. We push them back. Instead of feeling our emotions, expressing our passions, we silence ourselves. Why?

Even though Bitchin' Bodies has just today been "officially" launched, many of you pre-ordered copies and have had time to read it. (Thank you!) One of the surprising things I am hearing is how Bitchin' Bodies makes you cry. Not only does the book speak to you, but it's forcing you to admit those things that we'd rather not admit. I always knew in my gut that writing about the lived experience of body dissatisfaction would be a rewarding experience, but I have to admit that when I first started hearing stories of Bitchin' Bodies making women cry I paused. I questioned if, maybe, the book really was just another sad narrative in the string of sad narratives describing women's lives. However, I don't think that's why you're crying.

As we've talked, I've come to realize just how deeply we've pushed down our true feelings. When you read about other women who talk about the exact same experiences, there comes this moment when, no matter how hard you try, the walls come down. All those years of thinking you were the *only* woman who feels this way is stripped away. Then, the tears come, and that's ok. That means that you're finally being honest with yourself, as opposed to that game of honesty we play with ourselves. You know the game I'm talking about. The one where we push our real feelings down, and keep pushing them down, and adopt a mask of strength -- where strength is defined as not crying.

Here's the thing I want to leave you with. Embrace your crying. Own it. Be proud of it. Part of my bitchin' revolution is redefining what it means to be a woman. As a woman, sometimes crying is the thing that I not only want to do, but I need to do. And honestly, isn't it better to cry about something you believe in than one of those sappy Lifetime Movies. (which if you're really, honest, you'll admit that we call cry for.)

You may be asking, so Terri, why are you crying? The easy response is that I've been living the last few weeks on not enough hours of sleep. When I'm truly honest with myself, though, that's only a small part of the actual reason. I'm crying because you're crying. I'm crying because I know how difficult it is to be truly honest with yourself, your hardest critic. I'm crying, because as I continue to discuss these issues I hear more and more stories of body dissatisfaction. I'm crying because I want to be there with you and for you as you think about your body. And, I'm crying because there are so many people who have taken my little pet project under their wing and are making my dream more than I ever thought I could dream.

Keep crying, keep dreaming, and help me start a bitchin' revolution of what it means to be a woman.