My ten favorite embarassing moments...

photo from parentsconnect.com

Stuff happens. This means that we're all riding in the same lifeboat of unexpected-ness, which is bound to include some embarrassing moments that we'd love to forget!

That got me to thinking...

What if I shared some of my embarrassing moments - with you? All of us accidently walk into the wrong public restroom, so that's no big deal. What about some of those "Oh snap!" moments that have tinted my brown skin to a shade of bright red? I asked myself if I still hold my head up high if you knew about my awkward or self-conscious moments? I think so. I hope so.

So, here's the deal: I'm going to share with you my ten favorite embarrassing moments (is there an oxymoron in that statement?) - and you can laugh. It's okay. I'll pretend not to be paranoid and think you aren't laughing about me behind my back.

Ten of Barb's Favorite Embarrassing Moments:

10. Today, I walked into the men's restroom at Panera. Men's restrooms are really ugly (and that weird little thing in the urinal makes them smell weird).
9. One night at work while doing weekend announcements,  I wore two different shoes on stage in front of a large crowd. That was fun.
8. Yesterday, I wore a long cotton skirt. It was nuclear hot outside and I had a meeting outside at a local coffee shop. When I stood up from my metal chair, there was a GIGANTIC sweaty spot on the back of the skirt. I gathered that skirt up like the gals on "Little House on the Prairie" and hustled to my car before anyone could notice.
7.  Three weeks ago, I ate an entire pecan pie. Then I told 7,000 people about it. After I rapped.
6. While giving a weekend message years ago, the safety pin reinforcing the front of my shirt (that was supposed to make me feel more confident while speaking) popped up into view while I was giving a message.
5. I have a nose piercing. Good friends always let me know when I have a metal booger.
4.  I am certain I have passed gas at a less-than-convenient time. Probably more than once. So have you.
3. I will admit that once or twice, I've gotten stuck in a department store dressing room in a dress that would slide all the way up, but not slide all the way back down. 
2. On a hot July day years ago, I strutted into a building wearing a full-length fabulous wig and super-star sunglasses. Hours later, the security guard discovered me without the wig on after I had taken it off because my head was itchy! Dude couldn't figure out why my hair was hanging on the door knob and not my head.
1. Many years ago, I suffered a jaw-dropping wardrobe malfunction in front of a best-selling Christian author. He was very gracious and never let on that - well...Let's just say that I am very careful about button-down shirts and when I wear them...

Soooooooo...those are my embarrassing moments.

If you've got an embarrassing moment (that we can print AND that my kids can read) that tops mine, tell me about it! Leave your embarrassing moment in the "comments" section or post it on Facebook.

Let's laugh at each other - and have fun doing it!

Why did I eat the pie?

from greenermums.wordpress.com

Let me fast-forward to the punch line of this post: Last Saturday, I ate an entire pecan pie.

Yes, it was REALLY good. No, I'm not proud of it. In fact, the only reason I'm sharing this with you is that I'm so embarrassed I have to tell someone. So, you've got a front row seat in show titled, "The Day Barb Ate the Entire Pie...and Why?" Here's a quick summary of the storyline:  I ate a bazillion calorie, oooey-gooey, buttery-crusted, super fatty, pecan-laden slice of pie. It happened and I can't take it back. (Okay, I could have reversed the process, but I did that a few times in college and realized that it wasn't for me...)

The question that lingers is how could I enjoy something so immensely, but feel guilty about enjoying it? I feel like I broke some unwritten commandment: thou shalt not eat an entire pecan pie. I'm embarrassed because I let it happen. When I opened the package, I originally planned have a small slice each day for the next four days - that was my plan! So, why did I eat the entire 4" pie all at once?

Have you eaten an entire pie? Neither had I. Therefore, I had to make it up as I went along. I didn't just sit at the table and eat the pie. Nooooo, this was a road-trip adventure. One-quarter of the pie was eaten immediately in the kitchen. Another pie quarter was scarfed down while walking up my steps. The third quarter was eaten a few hours later in my bedroom while reading a 500-page book about a guy dying of cancer, who had just began dating his long-time love. Sad book + Kleenex = PIE!

So, what happened to that final quarter of pie? I don't know. At some point, I looked down and the pie tin was empty. I don't remember what happened. I just ate it. And it was gone. To borrow a phrase from Jen Hatmaker, writer of my favorite blog post of the week: Just whatever, man.

Some of you are mortified right now. Barb, how could you? What's wrong with you? Why would you share something sooooo embarrassing?!  I'm coming clean to benefit me and you (because I love you!) We don't want to let anyone in on the secret moments that shame us - even though 99.5% of us have a story to tell. I might have eaten a pie, but who's eaten an entire bag of potato chips? Or entire package of Oreos? Here's one: who has planned to eat a bowl of ice cream, only to scrape the bottom of the carton with the spoon a few hours later? It happens to us all.

In the recovery community, there's an acronym that could explain my pecan pie scenario: HALT, which stands for hungry, angry, lonely and tired. Often, when I am experiencing circumstances that trigger one of these emotions, it increases the likelihood that I will make an unwise choice - like eating a pie. It's not the pie that's the issue, it's me. In the past three weeks, my life has been filled to the brim with good things. Lots of great moments. Non-stop activity. Frankly, I got worn out. Last Saturday, pie seemed like a good solution to the "T" for tired. Should I have taken a nap? Perhaps changed my schedule or gotten some rest instead of eating an entire pie? Yep. But, I didn't. I ate a whole pie instead.

This weekend, I'm giving a message titled, "What are you hungry for?" and addressing the deep hunger that we experience at different times in life. Clearly, I need this message as much as everyone else - which is super humbling since I'm the one up there giving the talk. So, join me this weekend as I share a few things that God has shown me this week about how we can manage the tension that the different kinds of hunger will bring into our lives. We'll talked about how to find the true satisfaction that only God can provide. Also, there's a crazy ridiculous video at the start of my message. Seriously, tune in just for that.

CedarCreek.tv service times: Saturday 5:15pm & 7pm, Sunday 9am, 10:45am and 12:30pm. Watch us live online at www.cedarcreek.tv/live.

Women: Our Ugly Struggle with Beauty...

The following is part of the introduction of a project I've been working on the for the past six weeks. The premise of the project is to examine the relationship that women have with inner and outer beauty. The goal of this project is to encourage women to accept the importance of both inner and outer beauty and recognize their interdependence on each other.


Ladies, can you look into the mirror and repeat the following phrase without flinching: I’m beautiful. Just say it: I'm beautiful.

How do those words feel as they come out of your mouth? Do you feel like you are talking about yourself or do you feel disconnected from those words? If you can’t even say  "I'm beautiful," , it's okay. You are not alone. In fact, a staggering 98% of women struggle to say those words and actually mean them.

Do you remember the buzz surrounding Dove's 2004 Campaign for Real Beauty research project? A decade ago, Dove created a survey to help improve market share for their products. Surprisingly, the research revealed more than what body wash women preferred.   The company's survey revealed that a whopping 98% of women did not believe that they were beautiful. Dove launched an amazing advertising campaign to push back against such staggering data. It's been almost 10 years since that study was conducted and there hasn't been any new data to demonstrate that the original results have radically changed. So, if those numbers are still even somewhat true, this means that approximately 8 of the 10 women reading this sentence would not believe that they are beautiful.

 Maybe your math skills are a little sketchy, so let's use a shopping analogy: If Macy’s had your favorite $40.00 sandal or sneaker for 98% off, you might be tempted to throw an elbow for a chance to get that shoe for only $.80. While a 98% discount on shoes is worthy of celebration, that same 98% signals that we have an epic tragedy on our hands when we realize that only two of 10 women believe they are beautiful.

What is "beauty?" Google's simple definition of "beauty" is "pleasant to gaze on or a combination of attractive qualities." Nowhere in the definition of "beauty" are the words "perfection" or "flawless." Yet, that seems to be what we've elevated our expectation of total beauty to be.

Many women will admit to having beautiful eyes or a beautiful smile. We’ll fess up to admitting that we think that our legs or hair is beautiful. However, it is a rare woman who can confidently stand up to say: “My name is ______________ and I think I’m beautiful.” Who is brave enough to admit to complete beauty, not just a pieces-part, conditional beauty? No, we could never do that. Sadly, 98% of us feel that we authentically cannot do that. 

Why is it so hard to stand in front of a full-length mirror and smile comfortably and confidently at what we see – and cheer what we see? Only a few women are able to do this. So, it is not impossible, just not likely. Even if a woman could admit to being beautiful in front of her bathroom mirror, we are not comfortable when a woman makes her proclamation of beauty in our presence. So, even if she could, we don't necessarily want her to do so.

Yet, we love telling our girlfriends when they look beautiful while forbidding the notion that we could have beauty, too - and admit it. I'm beautiful. No, we cannot say that. Not you. Not me. Yes, those words to belong to others and we pretend that we do not care that we cannot own them for ourselves.

We all know that there is more to life than being able to proclaim our beauty in front of the bathroom mirror. Yes, our value as women should not be wholly dependent upon our physcial features, a bathroom scale or what size clothing we wear. But, let’s not pretend that those things aren’t important. Let’s stop shooing away the topic of outer beauty like a bothersome fly at a picnic.  Let’s step toward authenticity and admit that how we feel about what we see in the mirror does matters. It’s not the only thing that matters, but it does matter.  

If this topic interests you and you'd like to follow this project, you might consider subscribing to my TallBrownBarbie blog. I'll be posting more material in the next few months, but I may not always share the blog on my Facebook. Why? Fear, panic - I don't know.

But, I do have  a favor to ask:  I'm looking for your stories about your triumphs and struggles with both inner and outer beauty. You can post your stories in this blog or inbox me on Facebook. I won't publish anything without your permission.

Hail to Hilly

It’s been months since I’ve finished reading Kathryn Stockett’s best selling book, The Help. I borrowed it from my friend, Amy, who gave me her copy and with a gleam in her eye she said, “You are really going to enjoy this book.” (That copy has now traveled countless miles around Ohio. Each woman that borrows it has been writing her name on the inside jacket cover - very cool!)

About 50 pages into the novel, I realized that in order to get through this book, there were going to have to be some changes - after all, a woman's gotta prioritize. First, dinner had to be quick. Normally, I love making well-balanced, tasty dinners, but I had to suspend my kitchen operation for a few days.  I ran to the store and grabbed a few boxes of mac-n-cheese to sustain the troops while I was locked away laughing hysterically at the encounter between Minny, Miss Celia and the naked burglar.  Second, the family was going to have to turn their underwear inside out because Momma didn't have time for laundry...just kidding -  I really didn't make them do that. Calm down, Mom.

No matter the obstacles, I had to press on through this book because there were so many things I didn't know. Did Skeeter find a solution for her frizzy hair?  What in the world was Miss Celia up to in that upstairs bedroom? Would Elizabeth Leeloft eventually realize that her child loved Aibileen more than her? But most of all I kept reading to find out one thing:

Would Hilly Holbrook ever get hers?

Every good story in life has a villain and when the villain is a stylish Southern woman with a mean streak and a name that alliterates, well that makes for an even better story. Perhaps the “perfect” Southern Satan, it was Hilly’s sly, scheming behavior that kept me turning the pages until well after midnight for several days. Her Southern bred manners combined with two cups of pure 'ole mean catalyzed the action in the story. 

For those of us who have read the book, we all experienced “the moment” that was worth all of the tearful moments we had as we navigated the devastating lows each woman experience in the book.

Once upon a time, my grandmother was The Help. It wasn't in the South, but in my hometown about two hours away from Toledo in a little community called Medina. She used to tell me about the fine families in our community that she would keep house for - the meals she would serve in fine homes or the laundry that she would wash - children that she would make snacks for. It's a shame that The Help didn't come out 10 years ago because I would have loved to ask her if she knew a Minny, Aibileen or any one of the other ladies portrayed in the story. Personally, I think my grandmother was probably a mix of Minny and Aibileen - maybe a little more Minny than Aibileen, though...

I would have asked Grandma if she ever encountered a Hilly Holbrook. Since it was the 50's and 60's, I'm sure she did. However, I also know that Grandma would have told me that she never paid the Hillys of my hometown any mind  - but, she probably wouldn't have told me if she's ever made any "Hilly pies"...

The Help” movie comes out on August 10. I checked the early movie review websites and previewers have promised that fans of the book won’t be disappoint.

I better not be. Anyone else going to see the movie?

If you haven't seen the movie trailer, check this out: "The Help" Movie Trailer