Don't Rain on P!NK's Party ☼
15 April, 2015
Sniffling, I asked the waitress for another orange juice.
"Are you sure you're feeling alright, Paige? You seem pretty sick..."
"Yeah, James, it's cool, it's not every weekend you come to visit."
Last year, my brother James had flown out to hang with me in Los Angeles to check out some college campuses in the area, primarily Pepperdine (obbbviously), Loyola Marymount, and Cal Lutheran. It was day uno of his trip, and I hadn't seen him in two months. He's not only my brother - but my best friend, my #1 confidant, & my role model. I planned to give him a trip to remember.
My plan - however - did not include me having a cold.
Sneezing as the waitress brought me a refill, James shook his head. "Whatever ya say, germy."
Ugh. Chugging the jumbo OJ, (my only defense) I knew he was right.
We had a full day ahead. He planned to swim in college, and we had set up meetings with the head coaches of each school's team.
We hit up my favorite local restaurant, a cutesy beach cafe called Coogies, known for its awesome rustic atmosphere, complete with surfboards hanging off the walls. It was a beautiful day, thankfully; bright sunny skies without a cloud in sight, so we chose a table on the terrace, hoping some fresh air would kickstart my road to recovery.
The waitress brought up our dishes: blueberry hemp-seed pancakes for me, and the Rustic Italian omelette for Jimmy.
James had been a Christian for over a year, and although pretty lax with most things, he insists on praying before meals, at least when it's just us.
"I pay, you pray," he winked. Cute, James. Following his lead, I bowed my head.
"Dear Jesus, thank you for this sunshine, thank you for my best friend, thank you for this meal, and thank you for the incredible day you have for us. Please surprise us and show us just how big You really are. Amen."
Pouring some warm agave syrup over my hotcakes, I heard a loud giggle at the table behind us.
Glancing over my shoulder, I noticed a woman with her husband and little girl. The little girl was laughing hysterically bouncing on her mother's knee, both parents gleaming.
It was only us and them on the terrace, and James and I couldn't help but eavesdrop. Well, actually, we're eavesdropping experts, but that's for another day.
"I leave for New York on Tuesday, but I'm glad we could still have our weekly Coog's breakfast," she told her husband. Chatting about their plans to visit the market and park later that day, it was clearly evident they adored time together as a family. Having ordered the same breakfast as me (I'm sure mine looked delicious, tehe), the woman finished the whole stack, along with the last few pieces of fruit from her daughter's plate, completing her meal with a bright pink acai smoothie.
Then it hit me. Pink... pink smoothie.... pink....... Wait a second, this woman was P!NK!
Stepping on my brother's foot, my eye's as large as a black rhino's (which I read in the paper are officially extinct, bummer) I leaned forward and told him her identity.
"James, that's Pink! Ya know, the singer? Pink?"
Shaking his head, he pulled back. "Nuh uhh, her hair's not even pink, it's blonde!" ... he said a little too loudly.
Swiping my hand over my mouth (aka - zip it!) I pulled out my iPhone for some good ol' Google stalking. Sure enough, she was blonde (duh, James) and she had a bar code tattoo on her upper neck. Trying our best to sneakily look at her, we watched as she took off her scarf and chased after her daughter, who'd just sprinted after a miniature horse walking past on the sidewalk. Yes, I said miniature horse; Malibu is basically Disneyland. People walk their horses around. Anways, the tattoo was definitely there, just as I expected. (side note: James, this is why I am the smart one, love ya)
As James and I stood up to leave, we kindly smiled at the family and walked to our car, laughing about our luck.
James commented she looked heavier in person than he would have thought, to which I reluctantly agreed. I hate judging people based on looking too heavy or thin, it's something I, & most women I know, struggle with. We all want to look perfect, how can you blame us? Just look at the magazines, right?
I mentioned that, sure, Pink looked a little heavier than I would have imagined, but she sure looked happy. Laughing with her husband, playfully chasing her daughter, enjoying some yummy pancakes... she was doing great. And honestly, I thought she looked great, too.
After a long day of visiting colleges and (me) chugging orange juice, we were too tired for a nice dinner, so we hit up the handy dandy Ralph's supermarket for some munchies before heading to his hotel. Waiting in line to check out, James pointed at a magazine. "Dang, look at her."
Half asleep, I looked at the cover. "Wait, James, hello! That's Pink!"
Laughing at his ignorance ("it's been a long day, okay!"... sure James) we flipped through the pages, to which her body was without-a-doubt photoshopped (one photo shown below). This was not the same woman we had seen hours earlier. "Jeez, no wonder it's so hard for girl's these days. These magazines aren't real!" James exclaimed. Patting him on the back, I laughed, "welcome to the world of women, my boy." Rolling his eyes, we bought the magazine (I mean, we had too right?) just incase we saw her again. We were unlucky (during his visit atleast, I had seen her a few other times, once with my dad too, actually) but to this day still laugh about the memories.
Earlier this morning, thumbing through my Facebook newsfeed, a peculiar article popped up: "Singer P!nk Shuts Down Body Shamers With Positive Message." Turns out, some fans caught wind she had gained weight, seeing a red carpet snapshot they didn't love. They slammed the poor woman with criticism, telling her they were disappointed in her for letting herself go.
Instead of falling under pressure to become stick thin, Pink took the high road, tweeting back to fans (or ex-fans, rather) -
“I can see that some of you are concerned about me from your comments about my weight. You’re referring to the pictures of me from last night’s cancer benefit that I attended to support my [dear] friend Dr. Maggie DiNome. She was given the Duke Award for her tireless efforts and stellar contributions to the eradication of cancer. But unfortunately, my weight seems much more important to some of you. While I admit that the dress didn’t photograph as well as it did in my kitchen, I will also admit that I felt very pretty. In fact, I feel beautiful. So, my good and concerned peoples, please don’t worry about [me]. I’m not worried about me. And I’m not worried about you either :) … I am perfectly fine, perfectly happy, and my healthy, voluptuous and crazy strong body is having some much deserved time off. Thanks for your concern. Love, cheesecake.”
I didn't know what to think of her after seeing the photo-shopped SELF Magazine cover. I was a little disappointed, figuring she was feeding the beast of insecurity in today's women. But, after reading her latest tweet, I have no doubt the intensive photo-shopping wasn't her idea. It's very obvious she's a woman of complete integrity and confidence, not based on her appearance, but based on her heart, her family, and her joy, of which I witnessed first-hand. The Bible says "the JOY of the LORD is our strength," not the number on the scale or how many half-marathon's we've ran or whether we have a thigh gap (which is the dumbest thing ever, btw). Pink is a role model all of us women can learn from.
& for the record, her gorgeous motorcross husband say's it's "more to love." I'll take a man like that, please.☺
