Friday, May 13, 2011
Body imageAfter years and years of thinking every single mirror I looked into magically turned into a fun house mirror I'm starting to realize that, as awesome as it would be to be able to bend mirrors with my mind- it's in fact my eyes and how I view my body.
See this woman?:
You want to know the difference between her and I is? Not much.
She's blonde and her love handles are slightly smaller. But the main difference is her smile.
Put us side by side and she will look thinner. Put me side by side with anyone and the other person will look thinner.
Why? Because they're smiling and confident and happy with their bodies. My frown and voice in my head saying "they look great, why can I look like that?" adds frumpy-dumpy fatness.
So instead of searching and searching and searching for clothes that will magically change my body from "mom of 3" to "hour glass hotness" I'm going to search for my confident smile.
God that was cheesey, but there you have it.
I have stretch marks on my thighs. I have love handles and a belly that flop about. My boobies are smaller than my waist. And I need to tell myself "so the fuck what?"
So I'll continue to eat healthy and excercise- because I want to be healthy.
But damnit I'm flabby. And the only thing to make it better is a healthy dose of confidence.
Monday, May 09, 2011
If I were a better wife / female / feminist.......
Sigh... if only.
Saturday, May 07, 2011
SistersSo my family and I have have been writing our different memories and laughing at our weirdness. I've written more than this memory but they're all on MySpace and who in their right mind still goes to MySpace?
This is a tale of lack of imagination. Either that or way too much of it. I'm not sure.
I have 5 sisters. We all have frizzy, rats netst, banshee hair- one of us is a redhead. Not that it matters to this story but you can imagine the sight of our family. 5 giggling, frizzy haired girls, one of which is a redhead and throw in 2 red headed boys it's not wonder people stare at us.
So my older sister- *the* oldest. The redhead- and I growing up didn't always have the best toys. Let me rephrase. Didn't always have toys. Period. So we had to play with each other and come up with super fun games to play together. And what sort of super awesome game did our huge imaginations come up with?
Oh yes. We made believe we were sisters- albeit we were older and sharing an apartment.
We'd spend the majority of the time describing our outfits. Usually it involved some sort of
I cannot for the life of me remember what the hell we did all I remember is that each time we played this (oh dear god yes there was more than one time) for some reason, I'd whip out my adult sized boob (you know, the boobs I'm still waiting for) and spray milk at my sister's face.
Because 1) All boobs are filled with milk. All the time. And 2) breast milk in the face is *hilarious*.
Ok, lets face it- I still find boobies hilarious and joke about them way too much. In times I shouldn't. You know like when you're the only girl at a D&D table rolling dice. Hello! Awkward in social settings much I am.
Why I chose breast milk as my weapon of choice I'm not sure. I had to do something to liven things up. I mean I was playing "sisters" with my... sister. Which poses the question every single one of my brothers and sisters and I have asked- "what the hell is wrong with us?"
Labels: family memories