Imperfect Beauty

Perhaps I have been watching too much "Real Housewives", but it seems like there have been a rash of cosmetic surgeries and I am so tired of seeing this.

Can we stop already?

Some might say: "You are just jealous."  To that I answer with a "Damn straight I am".

Bodies sag over time.  Skin loosens, things shift, hair starts saying "Fuck you, I'll grow where and how I want".  Put a few babies through that machine and even FEMA couldn't fix the wreckage.  I used to look at NatGeo in the high school library and call my friends over to look at those poor ladies' boobs hanging at their waists looking so sad (the boobs, not the women) and we would LAUGH, oh boy would we laugh.  This my friends, is karma in its harshest form. 

You tell yourself things like: Whatever.  I don't care. This happens to everyone. It's natural.  Then people around you start making modifications that change what natural is.  There is always that asshole in class that gets all the questions right plus extra credit, which makes you 87% worth so. much. less.

The game is being changed.  Instead of all of us standing together in our swim dresses and spanks, we are pushing "normal" into the shadows.  This is amplifying the need to be something that most are not.  In communities everywhere, the majority of people are "unattractive" by industry standard.  Those modifying themselves are taking that majority away from people like me.  At least when TV is telling me I am fat, short, acne prone, flabby armed and flat chested, I can look at my peers and know that I am OK. It seems like this may not be the case for long.

I am trying my hardest to love myself.  I have made it a point to never say anything negative about my body in front of my girls and any time they say "You are so pretty Mommy", I reply with an enthusiastic "Thanks! I am- aren't I!". It is a small way to let them know that normal is spectacular in a world that is obsessed with perfection.  In all actuality it reminds me that I am OK and it is OK to think so.  I want my girls to know that there is beauty in every shape and size.  I want them to live in a more imperfect world, not the inverse.

I still struggle with body image and obviously with jealousy and comparing myself to others.  For those of you that are the same,  I assure you, you are beautiful and some one out there thinks you are perfect.  Even if it is your girlfriend, a 4 year old or a husband with terrible vision.

I challenge all of us to lower the bar!  Love the ordinary, take a compliment, wear shorts in public.  A former boss used to tell me that "perception is reality", so let's start changing reality.  The next time you see my white cellulite riddled legs out and about, or my boobs rolled up in a tube top or if I almost knock myself out with my arm flab waving at you, don't judge.  Just remember that the majority of people look just like me under their clothes and the more of us that bare it, the more beautiful it will be.

Here We Go

Under much influence from my friends (I have never been known for my ability to resist peer pressure), I have decided to start a blog.  I have always had these thoughts, then I started writing them down and didn’t really know what to do with them.  Before facebook, I would email them to my sister or my friends and then facebook became my outlet.  I guess this is just the next level of therapy.

What I want the premise of this to be is honesty.  I try to be unfiltered as possible because I feel like I was shorted by being brought up to believe that being an adult was easy.  My parents never let on that being a responsible, contributing member of society is the hardest fucking thing in the world.  Then as I got older, still no one was talking about it.  I felt completely alone and completely inadequate.  Then I would let little nuggets of truth out- like, I cried more than my newborn baby or that I ate an entire box of frosted pop tarts because I was so depressed and anxious or that I peed myself twice in one day, one time by just thinking about sneezing… and I found out that some people would understand me and sometimes let go of their own truths and I started realizing that everyone is most likely as fucked up as me, but they are just not talking about it.

When I had my daughter Blakelyn, I was 18 and clueless.  I was totally ill-equipped to be living without my parents, let alone raising another human being.  I distinctly remember singing the song “Am I the only one who’s ever felt this way” by the Dixie Chicks while sobbing every day for about 3 months straight (look it up, it is a great one).  The irony of that, (that I can see now, but couldn’t see then), is that is a break up song.  Sure, I was overwhelmed and hormonal, but the biggest emotion I was feeling was grief for my “could have been” life.  From what I can gather, it doesn’t matter your age, this is a common emotion.  No matter how prepared you are for your new life, there is finality in it. 

You hear people say “I wouldn’t trade my kids for the world”, but the kicker of that statement is that you have done just the opposite: you have traded your world for your kids.  You will no longer follow your dreams or your desires; you will be governed by a tyrant in the form of a temperamental baby (or toddler, tween or teenager).

 The other part of that statement is usually followed by something like “,but they are driving me f-ing crazy”. The thing about this society, is that even if you say something that might indicate that your life isn’t perfect or that your kids are indeed more work than you anticipated, you have to first premise it with a loving statement or something to make it clear that you are not on the verge of abandoning them.   I am kind of over that.  Can we just tell the truth? 

It goes without being said that we love our children, of course we do…but it is OK to be frustrated, it is OK to be angry, it is OK to be sad, it is OK to think about what might have been.  Most importantly, it is OK to talk about it.  We need to be more forgiving of each other and more importantly ourselves.  Women need to support each other through this crazy struggle called life and I hope this can be a place we can share stories openly and realize that it is all going to be OK, even if it isn’t.