The Happiness Project

I had the incredible good fortune to be invited by my dear friend Sarah to a literary salon last night at a gorgeous apartment on the Upper West Side. The purpose of the "Happier Hour" was to get women together (I believe there were about 50 of us) and talk about a concept, such as balance or commitment or, in the case last night, happiness. Gretchen Rubin, author of The Happiness Project was the special guest speaker, and the room was absolutely rapt with attention when she took the floor. I loved her calm demeanor, and hearing about her year of living, quite literally, in pursuit of happiness. When she brought up the concept of what Tal Ben-Shahar calls "The Arrival Fallacy" I really perked up my ears.

The Arrival Fallacy, is the idea that when you arrive at a certain destination, you'll be happy. On her blog, Gretchen writes:

The arrival fallacy is a fallacy because arriving rarely makes you as happy as you expect. Why? Because usually by the time you’ve arrived at your destination, you’re expecting to reach it, so it has already been incorporated into your happiness. You quickly become adjusted to the new state of affairs. And of course, arriving at one goal usually reveals a new goal. There’s another hill to climb.

I'm trying to think about this in terms of my own bionic situation. I dare say, that arriving at the destination of an unfettered smile free of braces will indeed make me significantly happier. I will have something to think about other than my teeth (Hallelujah!) I'll be able to eat whatever I want once again. (My kingdom for crusty french bread!) And I can stop thinking that I'm so unattractive all the time. (The events of the last posting aside.) When I first got the braces on I was feeling so small that the idea of dating was simply anathema to me. My friend Kristin looked at me with her best "give-me-a-break" face and said, "Are you really not going to have sex for two years while you wear those things?" I think Kristin might underestimate how committed I can be to self punishment.

And yet.

If I really think about what has made me happiest during the last seven months whilst I've been wearing my little tooth trinkets, I'd have to say that writing this blog has made me happier than I ever could have imagined. I've been getting incredible feedback both from close friends and from people I've never met. I've encouraged those who are on the same journey with braces, and I know I've been encouraged by them (That means you, Eddie!) I've been told by those without braces at all how much they enjoy my writing, and I have been so delightfully humbled by the mere fact that anyone reads this, and takes the time to tell me so.

I read this today:

The quality of your action depends on the quality of your being. Suppose you’re eager to offer happiness, to make someone happy. That’s a good thing to do. But if you’re not happy, then you can’t do that. In order to make another person happy, you have to be happy yourself. So there’s a link between doing and being. If you don’t succeed in being, you can’t succeed in doing. If you don’t feel that you’re on the right path, happiness isn’t possible. This is true for everyone; if you don’t know where you’re going, you suffer. It’s very important to realize your path and see your true way.

- Thich Nhat Hanh, "The Heart of The Matter" Tricycle

Could it be that this was never about my jaw, my orthodontist-shocking crossbite, or even the loneliness and demoralization I've felt these last few months? Could it be that writing was always the true path? I have another 508 days with braces, and I think of how lucky I am to have 508 more days to write about it. What a warm revelation to recognize that this is indeed my happiness project.

Cycling

We're on the four week program.

First, in week one, the braces get tightened. They hurt. I feel miserable and Quasimodo-like and I just want to sleep and hide and be left alone. I can't chew and I feel about as attractive as Abe Vigoda. In week two, the teeth start to move into place and I get used to their new positions. I figure out foods that I can eat and the shy turtle that I've turned into comes out of her shell and peeks a curious head out. In week three I can't remember why I was so damn cranky. I feel great. I run in the park. I plan European trips. I wear fishnets. But then of course, it's time to get these suckers tighetened again and the cycle starts all over.

It can lead one to drink.

That said, my dear friend Diana challenged me the other night to go to a bar, sit on a nice leather stool and just see what happens. She told me that all this fear I have of being unsightly is all in my head--and this experiment would prove it. She told me to do this when I'm feeling fine and fishnetty and also to do this when I'm wasting away again in Quasimodoville.

Her challenge has been echoing in my mind since she threw down the gauntlet. As I took a nice lunch hour outside in the phenomenal weather yesterday, I was thinking about whether or not I would do it. I walked down the crowded street with everyone showing lots of skin and bright colors. I was utterly lost in thought when a man passed me and said distinctly into my ear, "Sexy."

10-4, Roger that. Loud and clear.

Lucky Number 7...Sorta

This week marks seven months with braces. I went to the orthodontist today and he was very pleased, surprised in fact, at how quickly my teeth have been moving. He said that this is unusual for an adult, and I'd like to think it's my joie de vivre, my girlish mien that is in some way giving my teeth the extra advantage. (I've always been told that I look much younger than I am...) I quite literally fall in love with him when he looks in my mouth and says "Good...this looks good." He put a stronger wire on today, and I can tell that it's stronger because it looks thicker, and even feels strange against the brackets. But I'm back to the routine--the teeth hurt. I'm feeling down and small. I want a cupcake.

The weather has finally warmed enough so that I can walk outside without freezing and I've taken to trekking 40 to 50 blocks after work so that I can feel the warmer weather on my skin and balance out all that sitting I do at my desk. I love how moving my body actually lets my mind expand. It helps bring me back to the very practical reasons why I am on this braces journey when it hurts, and I'm angry about it and looking for comfort. (And cupcakes are offering more detriment than succor.)

I found these quotes today:

"Every moment of one's existence, one is growing into more or retreating into less. One is always living a little more or dying a little bit." Norman Mailer

"Be brave enough to live life creatively. The creative is the place where no one else has ever been. You have to leave the city of your comfort and go into the wilderness of your intuition. You can't get there by bus, only by hard work and risk and by not quite knowing what you're doing. What you'll discover will be wonderful. What you'll discover will be yourself." Alan Alda

Punchy Post

Ok, Mother Nature. I'm tired of all the rain. I thank you for the lovely little purple crocuses that are just peeking their sweet faces through the ground in my front yard, but if you could put a lid on all this nor'easter stuff, I'd really appreciate it.

The rain has made me downright punchy, so I warn you that this is a punchy post. I couldn't resist unearthing more tooth themed items. All of these are from Etsy.com, where I have lost a few good hours of my life poking around. Though y'all might get a kick out of these:

Tooth "vessel"

Teeth soap

Sweet Tooth Leather Belt

Just call me the Tooth Sleuth! (Lord-a-mercy, I AM punchy!)

Simply Breakfast

I really, really, really love this blog. It has everything I adore: A gorgeous aesthetic, food beautifully presented (as well as food I like to eat!) and lovely photos. What a brilliant, simple idea. Utterly and completely grinworthy:

http://www.simplybreakfast.blogspot.com/

Hope you enjoy it too. And thank you Jen, for sharing!

Polar Bears, Spotted!

It hit a balmy 48 degrees today--and the sun came out to boot! Good lord, I realize how starved we've all been for decent temperatures and just a little bit of light. I had every intention of running some errands this morning, but once on the F train, I heard the words Coney Island, and said, oh why the heck not? When I got there, seems like everyone else had the same idea--including the Coney Island Polar Bear Club. Their clothes were in a pile on the beach, and they themselves were in a pile in the ocean; singing, oohing, ahhing, and fabulously frolicking. Here, have a look:
I can't imagine what happens when the weather hits 60! My bionic grin will be so wide, you'll be able to see it from space!

Getting Vampy

Vampires are cool, right? We've got True Blood, Twilight and that awful CW11 series, what's it called? Vampire Diaries? I miss Anne Rice's Interview with a Vampire, which really started this whole neo-Dracula movement. And the movie had style and sass, oh my, so many pretty people. (Who was prettier? Brad Pitt, Antonio Banderas or Tom Cruise? Talk amongst yourselves...)

I actually have fangs, which you can kinda see in the x-ray above. I always liked this because my heritage is partly Romanian, and I believe from the Transylvania region. What a great idea for a sitcom--a vampire with braces!

(I love this image, and double love the t-shirt!)

Why didn't anyone think of this before? I can see it now: A vampire enters the bower of an unsuspecting victim. He throws open the window, stealthily approaches the unprotected neck, and says "I vant...to suck...your blood...Now, can you please stick this straw in your body so I can get to it? I might pop a bracket if I bite you."

Hilarity ensues!

Maybe I'll stop thinking of the extra thickness on my teeth as liability and think of it more as vampy way to stay in touch with my heritage!

Today

The cupcake depression is officially over.

I will admit that I have had some form of sweet yummy for the past four months. (Five? Six?) I know I was trying to soften the hard edges in my mouth, counteract the unpleasant metal prodding, and surround myself with things that are light, fluffy, airy, sweet, pretty--all those things that I wasn't feeling with this crazy iron maiden in my mouth. I loved every bite, and for the moments that I held those little confections in my hands, I did indeed feel petite, indulged, luscious, sensual.

But as with all relationships that are based purely on passion and nothing more, I've been left with unfulfilled promises, a residual disappointment, and an uneasy "gift" of 12 extra pounds. I have been saying for weeks that I need to get a hold of my need for sweets as I earnestly started each day virtuous and somehow spiraled into ill repute. (Who knew hot cocoa is the gateway drug for cupcakes?!)

As many of you know, I have a serious obsession with the Olympics, and have had it since the 1980 games. I met meet speed skater Eric Heiden a few years later in 1982, and it was in fact, my first ambition to be an Olympic speed skater when I grew up. As the Vancouver competition came to a close, and I was once again awed by the amazing feats of human muscle, bone and spirit, I said to myself, "Ok, Fatso. Cast off thy cupcake!"

My father made a plaque that hung in his bedroom which read: "Today is the first day of the rest of your life." I remember being utterly confused by this message as a child, but now I get it. Today I didn't eat sweets. Today I made chili and arepas for dinner and today I'm feeling happier and more centered than I have in months. (Not an easy feat when your teeth are all out of whack!) Today I'm remembering my favorite moment from the Olympics, and though I'm mopey that they're over, today I have this.

Does anyone else hear Neil Diamond's "America" in your head after reading this post?