Empowerment and Epiphanies

Starting one's own business is always daunting. Even more so when that business involves selling sex toys and becoming the "dildo lady." I started my Pure Romance business three years ago, largely for fun and product discounts. I wasn't interested in building a team or giving up my IT income. I wanted to make some new friends and I was promised cheese. (I'll do most anything for cheese.) After meeting other team members and going to trainings, my motivation changed. I started to want more. I wanted to offer more. To more women. So I did.

My business has changed a lot in the last three years and I love it. I've learned how to deal with the looks and the sometimes abrasive questions.

"Oh, it's one of those parties?"
"I'm just not that open about those things."
"I think sex is private."
"Let's face it, it just boils down to selling sex toys."

The last from my sister. While my friends were supportive from the start, my family was not. Which was okay. I wasn't doing it for approval and I'd been to enough parties to know what really happened and how tasteful they are. I figured they'd come around.

My business has introduced me to people I wouldn't otherwise meet. I've made friends across the country. I was able to go on a cruise to Mexico. I worry much less when I need car repair or new tires. I've been able to use party profits to donate to my favorite causes. My confidence grew. I've learned to let go of trying to do things perfectly. This year I'm close to doubling my sales from last year.

While all of those things are wonderful and reason enough for me to continue to grow my business, I've had some recent experiences that have validated that I am doing exactly what I should be doing. My Why, my reason for doing what I do, has changed a few times. The Pure Romance motto is 'Educate. Empower. Entertain.' I have those words in my head at each party and many times as I'm doing business chores. What I've heard from my customers shows me how I'm following that direction and those values.

One customer is very recently divorced and it wasn't pretty. I met her a year ago at a party and she was my hostess at a party over the summer. She called me while I was at national training to order a brand new product and later contacted me with feedback about her purchase. She loved it, and I was glad, but I was touched when she said that the only area of her life going well was the one involving me. Her sex life was better since meeting me than in the 11 years of her marriage. If a woman going through a divorce doesn't need a little self-esteem boost, I don't know who does. I also know that she voted differently than I did but checked in on me the day after the election, offering an ear or a shoulder in my sadness. This is the definition of women supporting and empowering each other.

I did a party this past Saturday with several repeat customers. I like to do a question and answer at the end of my demonstration to give my customers a chance to ask what they want to know about my business. Why I started. What it's like. How we get training. One of the girls asked what has been the most exciting aspect on my journey and my response was knowing when my business started to grow noticeably. How I don't go more than a few days without hearing from a customer with a question or a comment. This year has been really exciting in that way.

We talked a bit about the stigma of sex and parties and the business. I shared how knowing that I am in a place to help women is invaluable. And that's when another of the girls shared something that just gave me chills. She said that since she has been attending parties, she sees herself differently. Where she used to base her value on a man's assessment of whether or not she was attractive, she now dismisses that in favor of how SHE feels about herself. That she's just fine the way she is. That she doesn't have sex randomly with men in hotels. That her self-esteem was improved and her negative thoughts about herself have changed because of what I do. And, I'm sure, because of what she gets from the other women who share their stories at my parties.

And that - that is what I'm most excited about. Because it's SO important that as women we feel strong and capable and smart and desired and, moreover, that feeling comes from inside us. Knowing that I'm able to make a difference and to also keep these women safe from random sex quiets the naysayers, even if only in my head. And it's not because I lecture them. It's because I have products and a platform from which to tell them the truth.

This is what will keep me going. When a party gets canceled, when I fall short of my goals, when I feel like I didn't get the right message across. I know that these women's lives have changed. I know they now have a better foundation for self. I know they are learning to love themselves. It's what I want for all of  us. And it's how I know I'm doing just what I should be and I will continue as long as I can make a difference.

It's Enough

I did a Pure Romance party the other night for a repeat customer. There was a woman there I hadn't met before. She was nice, open, easy to talk to. I liked her almost immediately. Throughout the evening, she readily participated with the other women.

In the ordering room, she told me that she had once worked at a big adult store. One of those with four stories and everything imaginable and vibrateable under the sun. With her experience and easygoing nature, I thought she would be a great consultant and I told her so. I'm used to people saying no. "Oh no, not me. I could never!" Followed by giggles.

But this time the "no" wasn't from embarrassment or being silly. Her reason was, "Nobody would take me seriously. You have to be pretty to talk about sex and I'm just not. Nobody wants to look at someone like me."

And my heart broke a little.

If I'm completely honest about her appearance, sure. Her hair was a little big and frizzy. She's a little chunky. Who isn't? Put some conditioner in her hair and throw on a cute scarf and there is nothing about her that isn't approachable. I wasn't relating to her looks, I was relating to her as a person, as a woman. There was nothing that made her less of a woman than me or anyone else there.

Why do we do this to ourselves? To each other? When are we going to stop making shallow judgments about ourselves? And how do we honestly communicate to each other that we are enough? That we're more than enough?

A main tenet of Pure Romance is empowerment. We talk about it. We think we practice it, but do we? Because empowerment is about more than speaking up for yourself. Right? It's great that you can ask for what you want in the bedroom, or at work, or from your friends. Our voices should be heard and we should be respected and we should be able to buy what we want without being treated like "the little lady."

But it also means we should do all of these things without worrying about what we look like. If we can't be open in a room with women who have the same insecurities, the same struggles, the same relationship worries, how are we going to overcome this?

It has to start with us. We have to encourage one another. Validate one another. Celebrate the accomplishments we each make. Pay a compliment to a random stranger. Tell a mom she's doing a good job. Motivate, celebrate, appreciate. Do it over and over until you believe it. Until you believe your women friends believe it.

Enough is enough. Being a woman is, gloriously, enough.

I Need Humanity to Come Back

This is going to sound weird, especially coming from me, especially to those who know me. Yesterday, as I was watching my dogs pee (I don't know why then, usually I do my best thinking in the shower) the word "service" came to mind. The odd part to me is that I usually equate this word with religious connotations. Church service. Servicing others. And I'm not a church person. I don't spontaneously combust when I enter one, it's just not a place I choose to visit regularly.

So I've been thinking about it and what it means to me.

I got an email at work about how we should all be prepared in today's world. Lock doors, wear badges, park in visible areas, etc. We live in a very scary time. And while I feel relatively safe at work, being out in the boonies a bit, I still have friends and family to worry about. I worry for people I don't know because there are so many uncertainties and the news is bad every day.

Between the events in the world at large and our own political debates and in-fighting at home, I feel lately that we have lost our humanity. There is no compassion for people who are different from us, we're bombarded with messages that we have to protect ourselves at all costs. I don't think this is true, but voicing it results in me being labeled a "bleeding heart."

And it's a struggle for me to remain calm and rational when I hear all the rhetoric being thrown around. My mother and I disagree on one particular presidential candidate who I believe to be one of the worst people to come on the scene for a while. He constantly spews hate and fear-mongering and I think my mother is smarter than that. That's when I realize I'm doing it too. Making judgments. Putting on labels. We have to be better than that.

Working back to service. It is said that you must first help yourself before you can help others. Maybe that's why this is coming up for me now. I've spent the last several years working to be someone I can be someone I like, who I can spend time with. And I do. Some of my favorite evenings are the ones I spend alone, with a cocktail, blogging or listening to music or watching TV with my dogs. I'm a pretty fun date for myself. So maybe I've opened up some room to be able to give back.

The problem is, I don't know how. I don't know what that looks like for me. Many of the consultants in Pure Romance talk about making a difference in the lives of women. And that might be one way. I have a customer whose husband only likes to have sex one way and it's pretty demeaning for her. Her own mother encourages her to submit because "He'll find it elsewhere if you don't." Her mother perpetuates the idea that her body doesn't belong to her, that she must sacrifice her personal boundaries in order to keep a man that doesn't respect them. There wasn't a lot I could tell her, but I hope my suggestions in some small way empowered her to start thinking about standing up for herself. Maybe a tiny seed was planted.

I try to advocate for animals. I celebrate when a dog is rescued and finds a new home. The only problem is, there are 25 more waiting behind him for their own families. I cheer when animal rights become something to fight for, to vote on even. And then I hear that their are only two of a rhino species left in the entire world and poachers are running rampant.

I don't know where to begin. I don't know where I'm needed. Do I start small by being kinder? Is this where a return to humanity is sparked? How does it spread? Do you know you're making a difference or is it like parenthood, where you're just in the trenches day after day and one day when she's able to reflect and sit in your shoes for a minute, your daughter tells you that she appreciates you and understands you've only tried your best?

If you practice being of service, what do you do? Do you give your time, your money, your home? How do you not flash with anger at the injustices in the world? Is there something that lasts longer than giving money to a homeless person or donating to a Gofundme for someone in need or buying a Christmas gift for a needy child at the office? How did you find where you fit to offer the most?

Empowerment. Education. Entertainment.

I've been trying to figure out how to describe this past weekend without emotionally vomiting all over everyone I meet and Saying ALL the Things. I really want to Say All the Things because I love All the Things but I don't want to come across as some sort of zealot. Mostly. Part of me doesn't care. The other part of me is mostly rational. Or possibly overly concerned with how others view me.

I digress.

In a very large nutshell....

Last Thursday the bestie and I went up to Cincinnati for a little thing called Pure Romance National Training. I had been looking forward to it for months. Actually, for nearly a year and a half. All of the girls who had been before told me repeatedly that it was life-changing and inspirational and the cornerstone of being a consultant. So, naturally, I wanted some of that.

The first 24 hours wasn't life-changing. It was mostly confusing. It was a lot of elevator rides. In a very old hotel with very old elevators. Slow, shaky elevators. Not for the anxiety-ridden. I'm not even going to mention how tiny the hotel room was, except to say that one of us had to sit on the bed if the other one wanted to walk around the room.  There was a lot of searching for the right information. There was a lot of waiting in line. A lot of escalators. A lot of loud women. Really, really loud women. J and I think we're the loud ones. Usually we are. I now think that some people have never heard of an inside voice. I hope they aren't reproducing.

It wasn't all bad. Just confusing. The classes were educational. Pure Romance works with pretty much the best doctors out there. They aren't just cranking out dildos and vibrators, but putting thought into why women use what and how and why relationships last and the ways in which all of that can be enhanced. We heard from some doctors who are well-researched in sexual behavior. As a former psych major, I found most of it pretty fascinating. It's always interesting to break behaviors down into components and cause and effect and will definitely help me in my business.

Okay, so education. Cool. But I was 24 hours in and hadn't had my socks knocked off.

Friday night was the opening session with the awards ceremony. Rookie of the year, top consultants, and recruits in each division. Clapping, cheering, yay. I was happy for these women, they accomplished something real, but I was really craving pajamas and a pillow at that point. Until. We get to the smaller section of women who have worked the hardest and the longest. Sixty-one women walked that stage because they made $1 million in the previous year. 61. Sixty. One. One Million Dollars. One of those women had a team who did $7 million in sales in six months. What? Holy shit!!! The cheering was real for them, but it still didn't really touch me. Like, that's great, but what does that  have to do with me? Good for them, they're like Super Women.

Towards the end, Patty Brisben (founder of Pure Romance) walked out to give her little mini-speech and my ears perked up when she told us, "Life doesn't get better by chance, it gets better by change." And then she asked what we're waiting for. Patty herself is pretty inspiring. She's tiny and adorable and built this incredible company that she believes in and it shows. What am I waiting for? What am I putting off?

Patty's son and Pink-Tie Pure Romance CEO Chris Cicchinelli spoke next. He spoke about those 61 women. He talked about how one of them didn't wait for her cancer to go into remission. Another one didn't wait for her addiction to rehabilitate itself. Another didn't wait for her kids to grow up but saved her family from losing their home when her husband was laid off. Story after story of women who have been through more than I have, who didn't give excuses. Who didn't wait to change their lives but went out there and Did It. In spite of what life threw at them. It wasn't easy, it never is, but they did it because the opportunity was there. 

And that sparked something. The leaders in this business are constantly reminding us to remember our "why." Why we do this business. Why we keep at it. Why it's important to us. I still haven't narrowed down the definition of my Why, but that night I remembered why I got into this business to start with. My usual story is something about how I love the products, I love the parties but my friends wouldn't let me do it every month so I said "Screw you guys" and started doing my own parties. Blah, blah, blah. It's so funny. It's also true, but it isn't the whole truth. 

The whole truth is that I wanted to do it but I didn't think I could. Fear said I couldn't. And then D became suicidal. When you are afraid 24 hours-a-day that the person you love most in the world is going to disappear, it shifts your perspective. A fucking lot. When you're afraid to go into her room in the morning because you're terrified she went away while you slept, there isn't that much to be afraid of. When the worst thing you can imagine becomes a near-reality, everything else is so much less scary. So I said, literally, because I'm a potty-mouth, "Fuck it! Let's do this!" And I fell in love with it. 

And then I moved across the country and I got distracted and D was better and everything seemed like such a long time ago that the fear crept back in. So when Patty and Chris asked, "What are you waiting for?" my answer was simple. I'm waiting for the fear to go away. But fear is a bastard. It doesn't leave quietly or of its own accord. 

I sat in that audience listening to them and thinking how brave D had been. How she held onto her life. If she had waited to ask for help, she might not be here. Her depression might have made that decision for her. She didn't wait. That is the worst example I can think of for what can happen if you wait. 

And those 61 women and that $7 million dollars didn't wait either.

Saturday came with exhaustion and sore feet. Not to mention bloated bellies from Not Enough Water. There were also moments of irritability with some of the more obnoxious among the groups. We decided to play hooky from a class to take a long lunch and breathe a bit. I was disappointed that lots of girls played hooky because I thought I was being naughty but it turns out I wasn't so naughty after all. 

And then another magic moment happened. You know it's always when you least expect it, right? You can't plan for it, you can't force it, you can't make it up. 

We saw a homeless man with his sad, dirty little homeless sign. J loves to give money to people who appear to need it. I win brownie points from her when I show compassion in that way. But she wasn't loving it enough to give him $10 that day when she didn't have a smaller bill. And then we saw another man, also homeless, near the first one. This man had a bright, colorful sign that absolutely delighted me and I giggled as I approached him. This man's sign stated, "I like Whipped Rainbow Sherbet." Whipped is the creamy lubricant that comes in delicious flavors. Clearly his favorite is rainbow sherbet. I asked if I could take his picture and he said it would cost me a hundred dollars but he agreed to the $10 that I offered him. 

We talked to him for a minute or two. He used to live near Nashville with his military wife until they got divorced; he's struggling to start over. But, like he said, you have to be creative sometimes. He was wonderful and I won't soon forget him, if ever. Because the picture of and the dichotomy between these two men was so great. Life sucks, it gets hard, and you do what you can to get by. But you can give in and do the bare minimum to get by or you can go out there with your head held high, a smile on your face, and do it differently. With a sense of humor. With courage and creativity. And in a way that makes other people happy. 

Saturday's classes started to resonate with me. I began to hear them through the veil of "what are you waiting for?" Some of my struggle has come from hearing other women talk up their accomplishments and it sounds so easy for them. I get frustrated with where I am in my business when it feels so far from where I want to be. It was invaluable to hear others talk about how long their journeys took. To hear they struggled too. To be reminded that I'm an individual with my own goals and my own quirks and I can't compare those to anyone else. 

Sunday brought the Piece de Resistance. Board. Breaking Ceremony. Whaaaat? Oh, I'll tell you. I will tell you All the Things about this one. 

The whole weekend had been building up to this moment. It sounded important but I felt like breaking a board being a life-changing event was a bit of hyperbole. I mean, really? 

J and I were late. As usual. Four days of sleep required copious amounts of coffee and 3,000 women operating on the same amount (or less!) of sleep makes for long lines at the coffee counter. When we walked in, the guest speaker was telling the story of Teddy Stallard. I've given you the Snopes.com version of this story to tell you that this isn't even a true story, it's a fabrication designed to pull at your heart strings. Plus it's one I've heard before. I knew the whole thing and how it was going to end. And yet, I cried. J cried. Every now and then, through tears, I'd remark something like, "what the fuck?" or "Seriously?" or "Damn it!" What was going on??? Neither one of us had taken our meds that morning so it was a recipe for wads of Kleenex. 

He then talked to us about purpose. About how his purpose is his wife and his two daughters. He showed us their pictures. He asked us what color a yield sign is. Yellow!!! No, red and white. 1100 women were wrong, he probably loved that. He talked about how he saw his daughter differently when she came home from college, how she wasn't the yellow yield sign he'd seen her as her whole life and wondered what else he'd been missing. Fuck if the tears weren't streaming by then. 

He had us do some visualization exercises. A lot of this sounds hokey and it was and it felt hokey at the time and it sounds hokey to me now, but that's all part of it. You do dumb things to get over feeling dumb doing smart things. 

When it came time to break our boards, we gathered in groups of ten. Momma C threatened to kick our asses if we didn't find her so she could be our board-holders so we pushed our way across the room, through a thousand women, until we found her. Besides, we wouldn't have wanted to do it with anyone else. 

We were instructed to write, on one side, the thing we wanted to break through. It could be anything, but only one thing. I chose fear. Because it seems to be the overriding theme of my life. I've been afraid of so many things. Being alone. Speaking up. Being a single parent. Letting go. And yet, when I do the things I'm afraid of, the rewards are so much greater than any feeling of fear. I know this. I know this, but I still let it get in the way. The tattoo I got in Ireland was supposed to be a reminder. It says, in Latin, "Without fear." It's my constant reminder, but a lot of the time it's just ink. 

On the other side of the board, we wrote what we would gain and what we could have if we broke through that one thing. My words were things like success, love, leadership, freedom. And then we wrote the people we wanted to bring along on that journey. I chose only three names. I know a lot of people, but my real circle, my important circle, is very small. 

J and I stood in the circle cheering for the women who went before us. It was exhilarating, there was a powerful sense of support, and a growing feeling of panic and fear. We both said, "What if we don't break it? What if we're the only ones?" Because, the first five or six women to go broke those boards like they were nothing. They made it look so easy. Which meant they were all stronger/better/more successful than I would be. Did I say fear is a bastard? 

The first time someone didn't break her board, my heart broke for her. Because we all knew, simultaneously, what this meant. It may have been for different reasons, we all have our own whys, but it was equally monumental for each of us. That damn board broke on her fourth try. I don't know for sure because it was pretty damn loud in there, but I think I screamed the loudest and hardest for her. Our success was all the same in that moment. 

When it was my turn, I got goofy. I prepared myself for the attempts that wouldn't break the board, for which I would have to laugh it off so I didn't break down. We were told to look at our board-holder's eyes. If you look at the board, you only go that far and you have to look past it to make it to the other side. Momma C moved one of my arms, adjusted the other. She looked right into my eyes, I locked in on hers, seeing all of the trust and support and encouragement I needed. I don't know what happened after that. I didn't feel it. It was just that a second later, she was holding my board in two pieces and I jumped up and down like a crazed kangaroo. I fucking did it!!!!!

Then it was time for J to go. Last. Symbolically. Sadly symbolically. And she didn't break it the first time. I thought if I screamed loudly enough my sheer willpower would break it for her. I wanted it so badly for her. Far more than I wanted it for me. It just didn't happen that first time. She told me afterward that Momma C told her it was okay, that she had more to break through than a lot of people. When it broke on her second attempt, I thought I would lose my mind with joy. I was even past the point of sappy crying. 

She showed me her two pieces and where they broke. On one side it said, "good enough." It couldn't have been more perfect or more appropriate. Her One Thing was "Not feeling like I'm good enough." I don't believe, beyond any shadow of doubt, that this was a coincidence. She is good enough. I've always known it, but I can't believe it for her. She had to make her own breakthrough to literally, physically, see the words telling her that she's good enough. She's more than good enough. 

The piece where my board split is almost as impressive. Yes, I only wrote three names, but I also wrote my team name. Right now that team is a tiny team of two. And I'm okay with that today, but I'm ready to stop waiting and start multiplying it. My team name is two words. My board broke with one name on each side. I looked at J and told her that it's because I need the two of us to accomplish what I want. I don't want to do it without her. 

Sometimes life makes sense. Sometimes it really doesn't. It seemed like life got in the way last year. I moved the weekend before training so I wasn't able to go and I was pretty disappointed. I know now that I was meant to go this year. I was meant to share All the Things with J. That epiphany hit me just before she hit that board the second time. Powerful? A little bit. 

So, inspirational? Yeah. Life-changing? Hell yeah. I broke a damn board. That's not to say that the next morning I loved and accepted my bloated belly or I rushed home to quit the day job that pays the rent. I'm not going to solve the climate change problem. I don't have the money to hop the next plane to Greece. It's more like the flutter of a butterfly wing. My direction has shifted. The things I wanted before I want more now because I know that they're possible. I have this experience, this memory, I have All the Things to hold in my heart. 

Which is where it all starts anyway, right?