Yesterday, during my school's annual Kallah (a welcome back retreat, always held at a camp in beautiful upstate NY), one of my favorite professors talked on a panel about self-care. There, she admitted something that shocked many of us: she has issues with food.
This woman is a widely known cantor, teacher, and composer of Jewish music. She is married to a rabbi and together they share a shul, a home and 3 beautiful children. Always put together and on the ball, she is as talented a community organizer as she is a musician.
Never in a million years would I have guessed she had issues with eating.
She didn't go into details about her issues, but if I had to guess, I'd venture to say that she fits onto the opposite end of the spectrum as I. Instead of dealing with eating too much food, I'm assuming she struggles to allow herself to eat enough. She's been pencil thin as long as I've known her, and I've often wondered how she managed to maintain her beautiful figure after giving birth 3 times.
I've felt a connection to this professor for as long as I've known her--even in my audition, when we were literally strangers. There was something in her eyes that just told me our stories were somehow going to intersect, that she was going to be one of those people who are so much more than just a teacher. Until yesterday, I thought it was merely our shared love of music and Judaism that brought us together.
While I've never experienced anorexia or bulimia, I've often felt the ties between those who undereat and those who overeat. It's a matter of agonizing over every bite of food that goes near your mouth. It's a matter of feeling ugly, judged, hated by everyone around you. It's a matter of seeing yourself as completely different than you actually are. It's a matter of using food--whether eating too much or too little--as a way of controlling the chaotic world around you. It's a matter of finding comfort inside of a world that feels safe even when you know it isn't.
Today, as I was leaving breakfast to head out for a walk by a beautiful babbling stream, I bumped into this professor. I thanked her for her candor and sensitivity in sharing a snippet of her story with us. I told her that it made me--someone with my own food issues--feel good to know that I wasn't alone. I mentioned that I felt an even closer bond with her for telling us about this. We got to talking about how sometimes it is sharing our FAULTS with our communities that sometimes allows us to be the best cantors we can be. I shared with her that I've always believed our congregants like to see that their clergy are NORMAL people who make mistakes and bad choices from time to time. Though we've chosen to be role models for our communities, we are still everyday people--our congregants like to see that just like them, we struggle with everyday life issues, too. It brings a certain level of humility to a profession that is sometimes seen as overly dramatic or egotistical. She admitted that until our conversation, she'd never thought about it that way, and that I was right. It was nice to think that my words stirred her brilliant brain just a little bit.
It's kind of amazing how at the same time as I chose to open up about myself to my community, this wonderful woman chose to open up about herself, too. Maybe the Universe is trying to tell me that this I'm doing the right thing at the right time. As I open up about myself, I become more aware and accepting about the struggles in the lives of those around me.
It is at times like these where I am 100% sure that God exists, that there is something so much more powerful than science that brings our souls together.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Saturday, August 22, 2009
A Slideshow
It really is incredible everytime I see it for myself. I don't want to belabor the point of my last post, but I think this time line of pictures speaks for itself.
It's not just one person, or 2 people, but 4 (!!) different people.
One year before leaving for Israel:
One week after arriving in Israel:
My 26th birthday, one month after returning from Israel:
My 27th birthday, one month after the conclusion of year 2 of cantorial school:
It's not just one person, or 2 people, but 4 (!!) different people.
One year before leaving for Israel:
One week after arriving in Israel:
My 26th birthday, one month after returning from Israel:
My 27th birthday, one month after the conclusion of year 2 of cantorial school:
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Pictures
Last night, in an effort to chill out after an intense day of practicum rehearsals and High Holy Day prep, I was playing around on Facebook. I clicked the "View Photos of Me" link on my profile, where I looked through all 546 photos of me placed on Facebook since my account was created my senior year of college.
What you are about to read will either sound completely crazy or completely identifiable to you: There is a night and day difference between the person I was in college and the person I am now. Here's the crazy part--I didn't notice it until I looked at my pictures last night.
As of yesterday, I have lost 117 pounds since June 27, 2007, the day I left for Israel.
Until I looked at those pictures, I had no idea just how much weight that really is.
117 pounds.
That's a PERSON.
I literally carried the weight of another human being on my bones for 25 years.
The person I am now and the person I was then feel like 2 completely separate people, even though they're both me. The old Tracy feels so far removed when I look at those pictures. Yet I look in the mirror and still don't see the Tracy I see in the "now" pictures. My body is living 100% in the moment. My brain is not.
It's very confusing.
As I was lying in bed last night, I kept thinking about the reasons why I haven't told very many people outside my 3rd year class at HUC about my weight loss. I couldn't think of a single reason why I had to keep silent anymore. When I casually mentioned it to the rabbi I'm working with this year (in hopes of advice on how to ask congregants to cook food I can eat whenever I join them for dinner), he said "Tracy, you should be shouting that from the rooftops!"
There is a part of me, a part I keep buried way down deep, that is embarrassed to admit that magic number of 117. While it is fun to watch people's eyes light up when I tell them, there's also a moment when they realize (and I am reminded) that I once weighed over 300 pounds. That while 117 pounds is an amazing achievement, I still have a long way to go, therefore I must have been REALLY heavy. That I once really was the girl you see in the pictures from college and before I left for Israel.
The thought of that makes me so sad.
It's hard to look at those pictures nostalgically, thinking about the good times and friends I had in college. Instead, I cringe, seeing only the morbidly obese woman trying desperately to detract attention from her weight by coloring her hair and hiding behind friends. It's hard to think of the sweet memories when all I can think about is that girl who was hiding under a blanket of 117 pounds, praying no one would notice, praying I looked different to the outside world than I did in those photographs.
The really strange thing? Very heavy people tend to see themselves in their minds as thinner than they really are. Now that I'm not as heavy, I see myself FATTER than I really am.
My mind was messed up even then, in a way that is exactly the same even though it is very different. When I looked at pictures back then, I was always shocked and ashamed at how big I really way. When I look at pictures now, I'm still shocked, but in awe--in a good way--of the way I look.
I am 20 pounds away from weighing under 200 pounds.
I haven't weighed under 200 pounds since I was a CHILD--literally, I weighed around this same weight when I was in the 3rd grade.
Today, when I was at school working on my practicum, I told 4 people about my magic number. One of my favorite professors, one of my 4th year colleagues, and 2 of the new 2nd year students I had just met (who happened to overhear my conversation with my 4th year friend.)
I loved watching their eyes light up in amazement.
I didn't allow myself to pay attention when they put two and two together.
I wanted to enjoy those moments without the icky stuff getting in the way.
I think I am going to start spreading the word, naturally, when the right moments pop up. It's time that people know about the huge part of me that's simultaneously missing and yet very present in my life, whether or not they want to literally picture it for themselves.
Though, to my loyal readers and support system, I invite you to check out the "then" pictures. I think you'll be quite shocked also, even though you've been along for the ride the entire time.
I'm really doing this. It's working and sticking and I'm healthier and stronger and happier than ever.
Who'd have pictured it?
What you are about to read will either sound completely crazy or completely identifiable to you: There is a night and day difference between the person I was in college and the person I am now. Here's the crazy part--I didn't notice it until I looked at my pictures last night.
As of yesterday, I have lost 117 pounds since June 27, 2007, the day I left for Israel.
Until I looked at those pictures, I had no idea just how much weight that really is.
117 pounds.
That's a PERSON.
I literally carried the weight of another human being on my bones for 25 years.
The person I am now and the person I was then feel like 2 completely separate people, even though they're both me. The old Tracy feels so far removed when I look at those pictures. Yet I look in the mirror and still don't see the Tracy I see in the "now" pictures. My body is living 100% in the moment. My brain is not.
It's very confusing.
As I was lying in bed last night, I kept thinking about the reasons why I haven't told very many people outside my 3rd year class at HUC about my weight loss. I couldn't think of a single reason why I had to keep silent anymore. When I casually mentioned it to the rabbi I'm working with this year (in hopes of advice on how to ask congregants to cook food I can eat whenever I join them for dinner), he said "Tracy, you should be shouting that from the rooftops!"
There is a part of me, a part I keep buried way down deep, that is embarrassed to admit that magic number of 117. While it is fun to watch people's eyes light up when I tell them, there's also a moment when they realize (and I am reminded) that I once weighed over 300 pounds. That while 117 pounds is an amazing achievement, I still have a long way to go, therefore I must have been REALLY heavy. That I once really was the girl you see in the pictures from college and before I left for Israel.
The thought of that makes me so sad.
It's hard to look at those pictures nostalgically, thinking about the good times and friends I had in college. Instead, I cringe, seeing only the morbidly obese woman trying desperately to detract attention from her weight by coloring her hair and hiding behind friends. It's hard to think of the sweet memories when all I can think about is that girl who was hiding under a blanket of 117 pounds, praying no one would notice, praying I looked different to the outside world than I did in those photographs.
The really strange thing? Very heavy people tend to see themselves in their minds as thinner than they really are. Now that I'm not as heavy, I see myself FATTER than I really am.
My mind was messed up even then, in a way that is exactly the same even though it is very different. When I looked at pictures back then, I was always shocked and ashamed at how big I really way. When I look at pictures now, I'm still shocked, but in awe--in a good way--of the way I look.
I am 20 pounds away from weighing under 200 pounds.
I haven't weighed under 200 pounds since I was a CHILD--literally, I weighed around this same weight when I was in the 3rd grade.
Today, when I was at school working on my practicum, I told 4 people about my magic number. One of my favorite professors, one of my 4th year colleagues, and 2 of the new 2nd year students I had just met (who happened to overhear my conversation with my 4th year friend.)
I loved watching their eyes light up in amazement.
I didn't allow myself to pay attention when they put two and two together.
I wanted to enjoy those moments without the icky stuff getting in the way.
I think I am going to start spreading the word, naturally, when the right moments pop up. It's time that people know about the huge part of me that's simultaneously missing and yet very present in my life, whether or not they want to literally picture it for themselves.
Though, to my loyal readers and support system, I invite you to check out the "then" pictures. I think you'll be quite shocked also, even though you've been along for the ride the entire time.
I'm really doing this. It's working and sticking and I'm healthier and stronger and happier than ever.
Who'd have pictured it?
Monday, August 10, 2009
T'filot Haderech
Tonight I pray for a good night's sleep, free of the tossing and turning that has afflicted me the last week or so.
And a clear mind to remember all the little things I'm bound to forget: my cell phone and camera chargers, my water bottle that I need to wash in the morning, the box of checks on my dresser.
Tomorrow I pray for many things:
An easy goodbye to my family, dog and house that have hosted me so lovingly this summer.
An easy trip through Lambert, with no gate agents yelling at me about my overweight bags.
Safe and easy travels through Chicago and onto New York.
A brief, if not easy, journey through LaGuardia with my overweight luggage and guitar in tow.
A friendly cab driver who does not cheat me out of any money and helps me put my suitcases in the car at the airport and take them out once at my apartment.
A welcoming feeling as I walk through the lobby of my building.
A peaceful, calm mind as I slowly turn the key to my apartment.
My apartment waiting for me just as I left it, only a little dustier.
A shiny kitchen floor, free of "visitors" of any kind.
A successful attempt to put my window air-conditioning units back in my windows.
A speedy yet thorough cleansing of the entire apartment to free it from the dust.
A feeling of home, comfort, and happiness.
A feeling of completeness and purpose to energize me through the challenging, exciting year ahead.
A feeling of peace.
It's been a wonderful summer in St Louis, my hometown, my favorite place in the world.
But new doors can't open until you close old ones, even temporarily.
It's time to head back, scary and isolating as it may be.
As silly as I feel for posting an entry that is so overly-emotional about a simple trip back to school, it feels good to put my prayers out into the void. NYC is rough and difficult, and heading back there to be around people who love it so much is even more rough and difficult.
Please send love and good energy my way tonight and tomorrow, as I begin my 3rd year of school and continue on this journey to my best self. May this school year be the best year yet, full of learning and laughter, friendship and happiness, music and good health, goodness and peace.
Ken y'hi ratzon.
And a clear mind to remember all the little things I'm bound to forget: my cell phone and camera chargers, my water bottle that I need to wash in the morning, the box of checks on my dresser.
Tomorrow I pray for many things:
An easy goodbye to my family, dog and house that have hosted me so lovingly this summer.
An easy trip through Lambert, with no gate agents yelling at me about my overweight bags.
Safe and easy travels through Chicago and onto New York.
A brief, if not easy, journey through LaGuardia with my overweight luggage and guitar in tow.
A friendly cab driver who does not cheat me out of any money and helps me put my suitcases in the car at the airport and take them out once at my apartment.
A welcoming feeling as I walk through the lobby of my building.
A peaceful, calm mind as I slowly turn the key to my apartment.
My apartment waiting for me just as I left it, only a little dustier.
A shiny kitchen floor, free of "visitors" of any kind.
A successful attempt to put my window air-conditioning units back in my windows.
A speedy yet thorough cleansing of the entire apartment to free it from the dust.
A feeling of home, comfort, and happiness.
A feeling of completeness and purpose to energize me through the challenging, exciting year ahead.
A feeling of peace.
It's been a wonderful summer in St Louis, my hometown, my favorite place in the world.
But new doors can't open until you close old ones, even temporarily.
It's time to head back, scary and isolating as it may be.
As silly as I feel for posting an entry that is so overly-emotional about a simple trip back to school, it feels good to put my prayers out into the void. NYC is rough and difficult, and heading back there to be around people who love it so much is even more rough and difficult.
Please send love and good energy my way tonight and tomorrow, as I begin my 3rd year of school and continue on this journey to my best self. May this school year be the best year yet, full of learning and laughter, friendship and happiness, music and good health, goodness and peace.
Ken y'hi ratzon.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Low Lows and High Highs
Is it normal to walk into the gym, start up your normal routine, and just feel and think over and over again that it's just not happening?
That totally happened today, while I was attempting to do my cardio routine.
I hopped on an Elliptical trainer, a different one than I normally use because they were all taken. I set the resistance and incline and took off. 10 minutes later, I stopped because it was too intense. I re-set the machine at another resistance and incline for another 30 minutes, and took off again. Once again, I just was not feeling it. Rather than continue, I decided to give myself a break and go home.
In the car, I started crying. I don't know why, exactly, but it was a mixture of disappointment, fear and anxiety over my upcoming return to NYC, exhaustion (I haven't been sleeping well lately) and possibly overworking at yesterday's gym session, doing too much too soon after a few days off.
The tears were short lived, but necessary. I'm thinking the build up of bad energy in my body led to my lethargy at the gym. I felt better after lunch and a haircut, so I went shopping for some new, cheap bimah and school clothes.
I am now a size 14/16 in tops. I WEAR THE SMALLEST SIZE LANE BRYANT CARRIES IN THEIR STORES. It's so strange to think that it's true, yet the tags speak perfectly well for themselves. I also tried on a size 16 skirt and pair of pants, and while I couldn't breathe in either, they both buttoned and zipped completely. A small feat, but a big exciting moment in the story of my life.
2 years ago I could hardly fit into the largest size Lane Bryant carries, and now I'm the smallest.
By next year, it's entirely possible that Lane Bryant clothes will be too big for me.
It will be the first time since I was 8 YEARS OLD that I will need to shop in a regular store.
Strange.
I've shopped in that store for the majority of my life. To think about shopping anywhere else is unthinkable and strange. I literally can not imagine never needing to walk into that store again because their clothes are too big. Literally, as I type this, my brain can't wrap itself around the idea.
I'm slowly beginning to shop at stores that aren't specifically plus-size. I almost bought a skirt at New York and Co the other day when I was in Cincinnati, but didn't because it was too expensive. It was a size 18, but who cares...it was from NY and Co.
Thinking back on my day, it was strange to experience such low lows and high highs in the same day, both concerning the same thing. I guess sometimes we have to recognize the reasons why we struggle with eating and exercise--that smaller size, that skirt from the "normal" store--both reasons to sweat it out and struggle through hard days of exercise.
More than anything, self-love and forgiveness is key. We all have off days that we can somehow turn on again. In the long run, today's 20 minute workout compared to my normal 50 minute workout just doesn't matter.
The day of gloom that turned into a day of celebration totally DOES matter, in the short term and in the long term.
That totally happened today, while I was attempting to do my cardio routine.
I hopped on an Elliptical trainer, a different one than I normally use because they were all taken. I set the resistance and incline and took off. 10 minutes later, I stopped because it was too intense. I re-set the machine at another resistance and incline for another 30 minutes, and took off again. Once again, I just was not feeling it. Rather than continue, I decided to give myself a break and go home.
In the car, I started crying. I don't know why, exactly, but it was a mixture of disappointment, fear and anxiety over my upcoming return to NYC, exhaustion (I haven't been sleeping well lately) and possibly overworking at yesterday's gym session, doing too much too soon after a few days off.
The tears were short lived, but necessary. I'm thinking the build up of bad energy in my body led to my lethargy at the gym. I felt better after lunch and a haircut, so I went shopping for some new, cheap bimah and school clothes.
I am now a size 14/16 in tops. I WEAR THE SMALLEST SIZE LANE BRYANT CARRIES IN THEIR STORES. It's so strange to think that it's true, yet the tags speak perfectly well for themselves. I also tried on a size 16 skirt and pair of pants, and while I couldn't breathe in either, they both buttoned and zipped completely. A small feat, but a big exciting moment in the story of my life.
2 years ago I could hardly fit into the largest size Lane Bryant carries, and now I'm the smallest.
By next year, it's entirely possible that Lane Bryant clothes will be too big for me.
It will be the first time since I was 8 YEARS OLD that I will need to shop in a regular store.
Strange.
I've shopped in that store for the majority of my life. To think about shopping anywhere else is unthinkable and strange. I literally can not imagine never needing to walk into that store again because their clothes are too big. Literally, as I type this, my brain can't wrap itself around the idea.
I'm slowly beginning to shop at stores that aren't specifically plus-size. I almost bought a skirt at New York and Co the other day when I was in Cincinnati, but didn't because it was too expensive. It was a size 18, but who cares...it was from NY and Co.
Thinking back on my day, it was strange to experience such low lows and high highs in the same day, both concerning the same thing. I guess sometimes we have to recognize the reasons why we struggle with eating and exercise--that smaller size, that skirt from the "normal" store--both reasons to sweat it out and struggle through hard days of exercise.
More than anything, self-love and forgiveness is key. We all have off days that we can somehow turn on again. In the long run, today's 20 minute workout compared to my normal 50 minute workout just doesn't matter.
The day of gloom that turned into a day of celebration totally DOES matter, in the short term and in the long term.
More to Love?
Last week, a new matchmaking reality TV show came on the air. The premise of this particular show is identical to all of the others; 25 girls come to a house, kick, scream, fight, cry, hoochie-it-up, and "fall in love" with a token hot male.
This show, however, is different. On the new "More to Love" contestants are all fat women. And by 'fat', I mean they weigh slightly more than the average girl. Most are around 200 pounds, give or take, depending on height, and all wear entirely too much makeup and have hair sized comparably to Dolly Parton's. The guy? Over 6 feet tall and 320 pounds. Hunky and successful, charming and so warmly understanding of these girls struggle to fit in and find true love.
I wanted to wait until I'd watched this week's episode to write about my thoughts and feelings about this TV show. I felt that I needed 2 episodes to really determine if it is worth watching in it's entirety, or if I should just watch the finale in a fit of laughter and sarcasm as I do all the other reality matchmaking shows. Here are my comments:
First of all, if I hear one more contestant say to camera or to THE GUY HIMSELF, "I've always been too fat to love, I've never been in a relationship, I've never had a man give me the time of day" or blah, blah blah, I think I am going to throw up. I was willing to put up with it the first episode, since they didn't know the guy or what they were getting themselves into. I do 100% understand their feelings of feeling invisible and unlovable to the opposite sex. HOWEVER--after awhile, that guy is going to get sick of you telling him that. Shut up, please, and start loving yourself enough to acknowledge that you made it onto the show and at the very least will get your 15 minutes of hair-pulling, snot-nosed fame. Basically--we get the point, already; you've never loved yourself enough to be loved by someone else. Even a sweet guy like Luke is going to ditch you if you keep bringing that up in every single conversation and interview.
Second of all, this show is not helping to change society's viewpoint of the average overweight woman. As these contestants appear more and more desperate, lonely, naive and depressed, they are only confirming the stereotypes already put upon overweight women. Instead of allowing these stereotypes to ring true, how about showing the world that it is possible for an overweight woman to be classy, beautiful (on her own, without a mask of makeup and hair extensions) successful and happy.
ALSO, since the guy is also heavy, this show is telling the world that the only men who could ever love and appreciate fat women are men who are fat themselves. According to this show, only fat people can love other fat people. It's ridiculous, and I refuse to believe that this is true for everyone. True love knows no physical barriers.
I will say that the one thing I do appreciate about this show is the guy, who constantly reminds us that he finds real, curvy women to be beautiful and sexy. The world needs more guys like him...especially of the Jewish, successful and "finds Tracy to be the most beautiful woman in the world" variety. If you know of any of these, you know how to reach me.
Am I going to keep watching the show? Probably. I'm interested to see what happens and how the media reacts to the fat-flying frenzy that will be the final episode.
I should also say that I do find it interesting that the heaviest girl on this show weighs around 230 pounds, right around where I currently weigh. To make things even more realistic and interesting, I would have thrown in a beautiful 300 pound woman to see if the world could handle her potentially finding love. If society finds a 230-lb woman to be "ugly", I'd be curious to see how it would handle someone who is very seriously obese.
Someone I used to be.
If you're one of my readers who's been watching the show, please comment and tell me what you think. I'm curious to see the reaction of someone who isn't overweight and who has never been overweight. Do you find the idea of a fat man loving a fat woman to be appropriate? Is it possible for normal-sized men to love larger women? I'm honestly curious, so don't be shy--no offense will be taken by what you have to say.
This show, however, is different. On the new "More to Love" contestants are all fat women. And by 'fat', I mean they weigh slightly more than the average girl. Most are around 200 pounds, give or take, depending on height, and all wear entirely too much makeup and have hair sized comparably to Dolly Parton's. The guy? Over 6 feet tall and 320 pounds. Hunky and successful, charming and so warmly understanding of these girls struggle to fit in and find true love.
I wanted to wait until I'd watched this week's episode to write about my thoughts and feelings about this TV show. I felt that I needed 2 episodes to really determine if it is worth watching in it's entirety, or if I should just watch the finale in a fit of laughter and sarcasm as I do all the other reality matchmaking shows. Here are my comments:
First of all, if I hear one more contestant say to camera or to THE GUY HIMSELF, "I've always been too fat to love, I've never been in a relationship, I've never had a man give me the time of day" or blah, blah blah, I think I am going to throw up. I was willing to put up with it the first episode, since they didn't know the guy or what they were getting themselves into. I do 100% understand their feelings of feeling invisible and unlovable to the opposite sex. HOWEVER--after awhile, that guy is going to get sick of you telling him that. Shut up, please, and start loving yourself enough to acknowledge that you made it onto the show and at the very least will get your 15 minutes of hair-pulling, snot-nosed fame. Basically--we get the point, already; you've never loved yourself enough to be loved by someone else. Even a sweet guy like Luke is going to ditch you if you keep bringing that up in every single conversation and interview.
Second of all, this show is not helping to change society's viewpoint of the average overweight woman. As these contestants appear more and more desperate, lonely, naive and depressed, they are only confirming the stereotypes already put upon overweight women. Instead of allowing these stereotypes to ring true, how about showing the world that it is possible for an overweight woman to be classy, beautiful (on her own, without a mask of makeup and hair extensions) successful and happy.
ALSO, since the guy is also heavy, this show is telling the world that the only men who could ever love and appreciate fat women are men who are fat themselves. According to this show, only fat people can love other fat people. It's ridiculous, and I refuse to believe that this is true for everyone. True love knows no physical barriers.
I will say that the one thing I do appreciate about this show is the guy, who constantly reminds us that he finds real, curvy women to be beautiful and sexy. The world needs more guys like him...especially of the Jewish, successful and "finds Tracy to be the most beautiful woman in the world" variety. If you know of any of these, you know how to reach me.
Am I going to keep watching the show? Probably. I'm interested to see what happens and how the media reacts to the fat-flying frenzy that will be the final episode.
I should also say that I do find it interesting that the heaviest girl on this show weighs around 230 pounds, right around where I currently weigh. To make things even more realistic and interesting, I would have thrown in a beautiful 300 pound woman to see if the world could handle her potentially finding love. If society finds a 230-lb woman to be "ugly", I'd be curious to see how it would handle someone who is very seriously obese.
Someone I used to be.
If you're one of my readers who's been watching the show, please comment and tell me what you think. I'm curious to see the reaction of someone who isn't overweight and who has never been overweight. Do you find the idea of a fat man loving a fat woman to be appropriate? Is it possible for normal-sized men to love larger women? I'm honestly curious, so don't be shy--no offense will be taken by what you have to say.
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