My Big Fat Elephant

I have an elephant problem.
My elephant is out of control. It throws its weight around to always get what it wants. It is stubborn and lazy, sitting on its giant wrinkly elephant derriere all day long. It’s got a horrible sweet tooth and has eaten chocolate chip cookies for breakfast for the past three days. And it is grumpy … definitely not a morning elephant.
See, my elephant is my emotional side, and the darn critter is holding me back from making a much-needed change -- the get healthy change. I was doing so well before the holidays, but it really got to me -- the vacations and family get-togethers and the flat laziness I feel I'm entitled to in such times of joy.
In the view of Dan and Chip Heath, authors of Switch (read it, it’s worth your time!), the elephant is just one of three factors involved in making a change. The others are the rider and the path. Think horse racing on steroids.
The rider is your rational side, and mine is a fiesty little jockey toting around a briefcase full of facts. He displays posters of inspirational quotes and a Photoshopped likeness of myself 30 pounds thinner next to the shower so I have to see it every day. He creates Excel spreadsheets showing an just how long it will take to lose the weight at various per-week weight loss rates. He follows all sorts of health resources on Twitter to show the elephant why it needs to change. Everything makes such perfect sense to my rider with his well-thought-out arsenal of information.
But all the good intentions in the world are not enough to steer the elephant down the path, or for that matter, kick it its lazy butt into action to leave the starting line.
My elephant needs an extreme elephant makeover. So, as the Heaths suggest, I'm starting by looking for the bright spots. Like this afternoon, I took a dollar out of my wallet, ready to head to the vending machine. Then I asked myself, "Are you really hungry or just bored?" and answered (honestly) bored. Yes, that is one small step in the right direction. There have been more wrong steps this week than I'd like to admit, but the fact that I championed in one small way is pretty awesome.

Knockoffs Welcome

For our sixth anniversary last October, I received a wonderful surprise. That trademark blue box with a white satin ribbon. Ahhhh, my husband has figured out a secret that many men have yet to discover: The key to a girl’s heart is in a Tiffany’s box.

Literally.

Inside the box was a silver key with a heart at the top, the same one that had been featured on dog-eared page of a Tiffany’s catalog in which I’d playfully marked all the items I wanted (um, everything!). Cody had stashed it away as his secret weapon, his break-glass-in-case-of-emergency of sorts for gift-giving occasions. He’d strategically had the box shipped to a friend’s home so I wouldn’t find it before he did. (P.S. These newlywed friends will now start receiving the Tiffany blue catalog in a Tiffany blue envelope full of Tiffany wonderfulness. Dani, you can thank me later.)

That necklace has become a staple in my jewelry collection. I wear it almost every day, including while I was traveling last week in New Orleans. And that’s where it happened. A woman who’d been onboard the elevator with us remarked, “Oh look, you’ve got the same necklace!”

Dear Lord, no.



It was – gasp! – the dreaded Jane Seymour Open Hearts key necklace, just $54.99 at your local Kay Jewelers. (My apologies to those of you who will receive this monstrosity for Valentine’s Day.) There it was. In the flesh. Or metal, I guess. Someone actually bought it, was wearing it and standing right in front of me. Worse yet, they thought mine came from the same store. My head started spinning, “I wonder if Tiffany’s will let me exchange this one for a different design? It’s only been four months, right?”

Oh, silly, silly girl. But before I come off sounding like a pompous ass, let me explain.

Not only do I resent the blatant knockoff of my lovely Tiffany’s necklace, but I’ve despised that twisted hearts design since Dr. Quinn: Medicine Woman debuted her “collection” on TV. To me, it looks like a curvaceous woman’s anatomy – think bust and rear. Or, more nicely put, a deranged snake. Take your pick.

Now, this hideous boobs/butt design appears inside the space of a heart-shaped key. And at a fraction of the price my thoughtful husband paid for my designer version. Ugh. Isn’t that how it always works?

Every time I see that commercial on television – and let me tell you, it’s on nonstop this time of year – I feel a little bit guilty. OK, a lot guilty. Is this what I have become? Some snobby fashionista who looks down her nose at the unfortunate mall jewelry wearers?

Well, folks: I’m about as far from a fashionista as you can get. After all, fashionistas don’t own cowboy boots, and if they do, they’re for fashion (though I do consider mine quite stylish, it’s all relative I suppose). And honestly, any item in my closet that didn’t come from Target or Forever 21 has a 99.5% chance of having been scavenged from mall clearance racks. Seriously, people, I rarely buy things at full price, and I do mean RARELY. And anything that might be considered “designer” was most likely a gift.   

So, I got to thinking: Does brand matter? When it comes to clothing, jewelry, etc., I would argue no, brand doesn’t matter, though I will admit that I can’t hold back my glee when getting something “designer,” mostly because I own so few things that fit into that category. How about cars? Nope, my plain old Nissan is perfectly fine. I don’t need to upgrade to Infiniti (Nissan’s luxury brand) or something fancier. And groceries? I am the queen of buying store brand. Except ketchup. I’ve been informed it’s not the same, and I might actually agree on this one.

The list could go on, but overall, brand doesn’t matter. The reason Kay Jewelers and Dr. Quinn have copied my beloved Tiffany’s necklace is because it’s nice. People like it. Therefore, it will sell. And we’ve all heard copying is a form of flattery, right? (What teenage girl has counted that as an acceptable reason why their arch frenemy showed up in the same prom dress?)

Being copied is usually quite annoying, sometimes downright infuriating. It feels like someone is taking something away from your individuality, and instead of being unique and original, you’ve become part of a sea of sameness. Teenage girls may all pine for the same brand of jeans, attempting to (unsuccessfully) persuade their parents that brand matters. Funny how this be-like-everyone-else attitude shifts significantly when it comes to something more personal – like a prom dress.

But there is one instance where copycats are actually quite welcome and where brand DOES matter. Your own personal brand. Your beliefs and values, those are what matter. Believe it or not, when you’re a good person, it spreads. If you’re lucky, it spreads like the flu in a daycare toy box.

Have you ever been around someone like that? Who just gives off that good person vibe? You want to be like them, not for the way they dress, the car they drive or how cool they seem. But because they have a strong personal brand, and they live it every day. That's quite admirable, and definitely worth copying.

Who knew? Sometimes knockoffs are actually welcome.