Your Body. My Body.

Have you ever wondered why we seem drawn to look at other people’s bodies?

And often it’s not just looking…

It’s judging…

It’s comparing…

It’s rejecting…

It’s coveting…

But…It’s…NOT OUR BODY.

So then WHY?

Why do we feel compelled to silently (or not so silently) comment on another’s body? I’ll tell you why, it’s for the same reason we watch realityTV, it softens our own inner critic…

I’m not that bad.

I can have that too!

or…See she’s not that perfect.

But here’s the rub…here’s where the logic collapses. Engaging in this type of inner comparison doesn’t actually achieve its goal. It doesn’t make us feel better…it makes us feel worse. It makes us feel worse because it sidesteps our humanity…disabling our ability to feel compassion for ourselves; making it impossible to feel compassion for others. Funny how that works…that feedback loop of essential human-ness.

What makes us human isn’t our perfection, it’s our ability to accept, even love, our imperfection…because what I see in me, is what I see in you.

We are all mirrors.

It’s your responsibility to love you what you see.

xxx Dr.NB.

 

 

Pamela Anderson: Using Nudity…Cruelty Free!

Like her or not, Pamela Anderson is a cultural sex icon.

And in her latest incarnations, she has been more inclined to shed her clothing for the “betterment” of animal treatment than in the pages of “girly mags”, most notably for PETA and her own non-profit the Pamela Anderson Foundation . Most recently, Anderson has paired with French footwear designer Amélie Pichard on an all-vegan capsule collection and the ads…well, the ads are pure Pamela:

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Selections from her Paper magazine interview:

You’ve worked with animal rights for such a long time. Why did you decide that now was a good time to collaborate on this retail line?

Vegan compassion is sexy. And I miss the fun! Being a woman is fun! Being a man is fun! No rules. I’m not the designer. Celebrities are not designers. I don’t like the word “celebrity,” since people can be famous for no good reason in this social media culture. Activism is fun.

What is beauty? It is any age. It is timeless. It’s hard to be glamorous in this digital world. I wish we still lived in black and white. People were more beautiful.

 

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We have to know the past, to think of the future. We live in paradise. Politicians are telling us it’s OK. Media prints what politicians say. It’s not OK. We have to take charge, demonstrate.Act up! Beware people that repeat themselves over and over. It is a brainwashing trick used by Hitler.

All we can do as humans, as consumers, is search for the truth on our own… Go vegan if you can. Or at least eat less meat.

I wanted to contribute to fashion and beauty to offer cruelty-free fun choices. I have my compassionate lifestyle brand, Pammieslife.com, that I keep adding to, and this vegan shoe line made in France with Amélie Pichard.

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Many of the looks have very much a beachy, Malibu vibe. Why did you decide on this aesthetic?

Pammies has a very beachy vibe. Just chill on the beach with dogs, kids, friends: the real me. The (footware) line is a twist on the ’90s image. Why not enjoy it all? Embrace it.

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The shoes have glitter on the soles, which is unexpected. What was the reasoning behind that design choice? Which one of you came up with that?

Ha! I came up with that. When I come home after a night out with friends, the bottoms of my shoes are always covered in glitter — like the rest of me. My friends are all artists. They like to play arts and crafts with me. I go out in one outfit and come home in a variation sometimes. Never give [photographer] David LaChapelle scissors (and tequila).

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I’ve read that Amélie Pichard calls you her muse. How does it feel that your style and career has impacted someone like that?

It’s an honor. I’m flattered. It’s funny. She is so young and stylish. I find a lot of talented young artists her age; directors, etc. I’m fine with the new indie film and fashion babies. I’m excited to be working so much. I love to work hard, and I have a lot of fun being a muse. It just means I have to be me — that’s my job! I feel like I’ll keep working forever.

It’s a great time for me right now. My kids are grown. I’m so proud of them, and they are very proud of Mom. It’s very freeing to still be able to be myself. What a relief. And, to have my kids’ approval, respect and love is all I need. I even have a man in my life that gets me like never before. That is everything!

We will change the world. All of us. We all just need to do our part. And feel loved. That’s when we are at our best. I wish that for everyone. We have paradise beneath our feet. We must change to a green economy, and things will get better. More equality.

It’s fun; it’s innovative. We are all the architects of a new world. Maybe a new religion: loving the planet and all its beings. Let the ocean regenerate itself. And save the rainforest.

Bless everyone. I hope you can find your purpose like I have. A wild journey.

 

Pamela Anderson is 48 years old. (I’ll give you a minute to let that sink in.)

Yes, she looks fantastic…but more than that I applaud her for leveraging what may be considered an exploited commodity (her body) to benefit a cause she has championed for decades.

Pammy, she will always be my fantasy…Dr.NB.

A beauty evolution.

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Artist, Aleah Chapin

***

there are some pretty people

on this earth, my goodness.

the sad part is it takes most

people a lifetime to realize

what pretty is

and how to see it.

deathbeds are

revelations of our aesthetic

existence.

one day it will be much too late

and

the burden of beauty unseen

will hit you like a comet to the

chest;

all I ask from you now

is to love what is difficult

to love and

find what is difficult to see.

Christopher Poindexter (emphasis added)

I have been thinking a lot about beauty these days…probably related to the most recent (if exhaustingly derivative) wave of social media obsessions (makeup, bodies, fashion, etc.) which always seem to reflect beauty norms in the most insidious manner…or maybe because as I approach a “certain age” I find…

I am more aware,

more appreciative,

and more accepting of beauty in ALL forms.

Meaning I see beauty in those visions, sounds, textures, tastes that previously I had rejected or quite honestly…hadn’t even noticed

(because these experiences are typically not spoon-fed to us…as beauty).

It’s sad…I mourn the loss, the expanse of beauty, I only now understand.

It is also wonderful.

It’s so new.

It’s so lush…it has a depth and a richness, a confidence I’ve never before known.

I don’t think I could have known it, with my untuned senses…blunted by the heavy weight thrown mostly on the young…weight you don’t even fully perceive until you become “old-enough”…and then, you shed it.

You shed it and you become beauty.

But unlike any you’ve ever known…because it’s source is your heart,

it’s conduit…your soul.

This daily realization, found in the smallest experiences…brings me to tears.

-Dr.NB.

Is it cheating?!

We seem to be quite clear on what IS cheating…when it comes to physical behavior…but our resolve seems less righteous when technology is involved. Where do you stand on this? Is “harmless” flirting via social media or text (sexting) cheating? What about that emoji kiss? Or that near nude you shared? What would your significant other’s reaction be while scrolling through your dm’s or texts? Would their security be reinforced or sacrificed? Is there such a thing as innocent flirting…particularly if it never comes to fruition? As always, I look forward to your opinions…xxx Dr. NB. 2015/01/img_6262.png

Fantasy…sometimes it’s never meant to be a reality.

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Sexual Fantasy and Reality have often merged in my life…or maybe criss-crossed is more accurate. In my experience when fantasy-made-real mirrors the landscape of my actually reality, it truly lives up to expectations; however, when the realization of fantasy skips too many reality-boundaries…it leaves me…disappointed. And not for the reasons you assume…

A Realized sexual fantasy leaves me disappointed because, now…it can no longer be a fantasy again…it must necessarily be retired from fantasy-rotation to become…just…a fading memory.

Strange…maybe. But, maybe not.

Making fantasies into actuality is complicated business. Fantasies are necessarily fluid, they float across our consciousness with unlimited options for malleability..not so, in real life. Real life is tethered to another’s (or multiple others) desires/wants/feeling/expectations…your fantasies are all yours.

Some welcome that unknowability. I think it allows for too many unintentional complications. It’s a fantasy. It’s simple. It’s deviant. It’s downright disgusting! And…maybe…Sometimes, it’s best to…Keep it that way!

I will never forgive myself for making the fantasy of a threesome, reality…not because I feel guilty…or because it was a bad experience…neither apply…rather…because…I can NEVER have that fantasy, again.

May all your fantasies…cross the barrier into reality…and back…again, xxx Dr. NB.

(image by exphoria inc. for nudephotobasics.com)

What it Means to Wake Up in Love via NewsCult

I thought this was a lovely piece… xxx dr.c.

 

WHAT IT MEANS TO WAKE UP IN LOVE

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I roll over in bed. Then I roll back the other way. I can’t get comfortable; the blankets are twisted around my leg and my hair is in my face and, Jesus, why is it so hot? Even though I keep my eyes closed, I feel him there. He slowly, gently unwraps the blankets from my legs. Then his hand goes to my face, where he wipes the sweaty hair away and tucks it behind my ears. I hear him get up and walk quietly over to the window, opening it as slowly as possible. He does that because he thinks I’m still sleeping and doesn’t want to wake me.

We go out to eat. I am talking fast about something; I always talk fast when I really want to tell a story. He is smiling and nodding along. Since I’m not paying attention, what I have in my fork somehow doesn’t make it to my mouth and ends up all over my shirt. Naturally, I think to myself, embarrassed by my lack of grace. “Wow, that piece of spaghetti really looks good there, they should introduce that into the fall line, will definitely be the next big thing.” He says, being goofy. He’s trying to make me laugh. He’s trying to make me not feel bad about spilling. It works.

I’m standing in front of the mirror. My stomach and thighs are definitely looking bigger than they did a year ago at this time. I have been on a diet of cheeseburgers after work at midnight and beer always. When I go to the gym, I usually get distracted by which playlist to have on my iPod. Regretting all of these things as I turn and look at my body from a different angle. He comes up behind me and puts his arms around my waist. He kisses my cheek. “You look sexy” he says as he holds me tighter. He calls me sexy because that’s what I need to be called right then. Not beautiful, not cute, but sexy.

I’ve worked all day and I can’t seem to move from my couch. I am so tired, so overwhelmed. I don’t know what I’m doing with my life and I could really just cry. He takes my hand in his. He sits next to me. He doesn’t talk, doesn’t try to give me advice, he just lets it be. He lets me be overwhelmed, while letting me know he is right beside me. When I’ve calmed down, he offers me a beer and a back massage. Not because he necessarily feels like getting me a beer or giving me a back massage, but because he knows that’s exactly what I feel like.

I’m jealous of a girl he’s friends with. I don’t know why, I can’t explain it, it’s so silly and I know it, but I am. It makes me upset and I get angry with myself for being insecure enough to be jealous. He doesn’t call me crazy, he doesn’t get mad, and he doesn’t laugh at me. He listens to me.

I’m nervous around his family and close friends. I want them to like me as much as possible, because I like him more than I ever thought possible. I get anxious. He puts his arm around my waist. He laughs at my jokes, nodding encouragingly. As we walk away, he leans in and whispers, “they love you.”

He’s the first to be genuinely good to me. The first to not try to bring me down. The first to not intentionally hurt me. I didn’t think he existed until I met him. I go to bed in love and I wake up in love.

Kaitlyn Seabury | News Cult

How #HONY Changed My Life

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When I was nine or so, my father committed suicide. It’s not something I hide, but it’s also not something I introduce into everyday exchanges…unless I am being interviewed by Humans of New York or #HONY, as it’s affectionately referred to (Honestly, the photograph feels like an afterthought.).

When Brandon, HONY’s photographer and creator, approached me he introduced himself, “I have a website called Humans of New York…” I immediately thought I knew what to expect: he will ask me a question that will require some reflection, I will respond in kind. I was wrong. Here is the rest of the exchange:

HONY: If you had to address a large room of people what is the one piece of advice you would give them.

Me: Be more compassionate. No…Learn to develop more compassion.

HONY: Okay, so tell me of one instance in your life where you wish you had been more compassionate.

(I did not see that coming. My mind flooded with the too-many-to-name-times I could have been more compassionate in my life…and I must have looked stumped because…)

Take your time…this is an Oprah moment (said with a big open smile)…a single instance where you wish you had shown someone more compassion.

(Only one memory came up, and I responded.)

Me: With my mother, when I was younger.

HONY: With your mother? Wow that’s so sweet (genuinely spoken)…How so? How could you have shown her more compassion?

(This was a clear decision point, I could have clammed-up or opened-up…I chose the latter.)

Me: My father committed suicide when I was nine. Of course it was hard on both of us. But, through my own pain and rage…I could never see hers. I wish I had been more compassionate toward her. I wish I had been able to understand and accept her depression, instead of reacting against it. I know I was a child, with limited ability to cope, but my regret is not being able to be compassionate to my mother in that moment….or even years later.

(This exchange ended with a “thank you”, a few encouraging words, and a warm hug from Brandon…but it didn’t stop there, for me.)

In that moment, I realized that while I built so much of my life around cultivating a sense of compassion both towards others and myself…my motivation had always been my mother. Yes I was a child; however, it was not until adulthood that I was able to truly heal and feel real compassion for her process of grieving, her loss. And I watched her suffer for so many years. It’s not a question of responsibility. It’s a deep desire to hold another’s pain, which I spent years of degrees (BA, MA, PhD in clinical psychology) “learning” to do…with the belief that it was for my father…yet now, for the very first time, I understand that it was really for my mother. I wish I had been able to show her the compassion I have now…then.

It is stunning how a 5-minute exchange, focused on honesty can truly change your life. Thank you HONY.

And THANK YOU TO THE HONY READERS…I had no idea how impactful your responses would be, not only for me…for other readers as well.

HONY has cultivated a thoughtful and empathic community, and the fact that it is through social media is unique and truly amazing; it speaks to the positive role that social media can have in peoples’ lives if it is utilized mindfully.

This experience helped me realize that even the most seemingly insignificant human exchange can have a significant and lasting influence on your life. Never be afraid to connect, with an open and honest heart.

Xxx, dr.c.

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