32.

Now that the holiday rush is over

And I'm out of work again

I feel like I'm getting my life back.

Some of it is very, very good- being able to spend time with my kids and my hubby

Some of it, not so much.

I see myself slipping back into patterns of behavior that are pretty negative, and I need to combat these feelings.

It's been hard. Lots of stress. Lots of worrying. 

I really need a naked day.

And I'm 32 now, so there's that.

I've hit another birthday- nothing major. It's not a milestone or anything, and I feel like I have settled into the decade pretty well. I'm looking forward to the length and breadth of this decade. It's started off on shaky ground, but I am determined to see it through positively. 

This is my body at 32.

It slumps. It has lumps and bumps. It's not perfect, but it's mine. It's carried me through 32 years of life and will carry me through the days I have left. I have laughed and loved and cried and dreamed in this body.

This birthday for me was filled with conflict. I haven't really celebrated many birthdays since I was 15. I've celebrated one on occasion, but it is certainly beyond the scope of what is normal for me. 

Why don't I celebrate my birthday?

I've never felt like I deserved to.

For the same reasons I didn't feel like I deserved to feel loved or pretty.

I hated myself. I still struggle with it.

I almost wanted to celebrate this year. I almost wanted to have a party that was just for me, but at the last minute, I went back to all those negeative, useless feelings and got all pissy about it.

My husband wanted to take me out to a nice lunch. 

I talked him out of it.

I did let him wish me a happy birthday this year, which is a step up, I suppose, but I feel myself regressing to similar patterns of very negative behavior. 

In an attempt to rectify this mistake, and at the urging of my youngest son, I have decided to celebrate my birthday- albiet in a mildly roundabaout kind of way.

We're having a bonfire, having a bunch of friends over, and hanging out. That's all I wanted.

Amidst all the confusion and stress that these past few days and weeks have brought, I could use a cleansing fire, some booze, and the company of friends.

It's time to take a step back, get naked, and learn to love again. 

What a Scruffy Tree Taught Me About Body Image

...or: Obligatory Holiday Post.

We cut our own tree this year.

My youngest son and I walked out to the side yard in our flannel pajamas and rain boots and picked out a lovely red cedar sapling that was nestled up beside my favorite pecan tree. 

We've run the gamut of Yule trees- real ones and fake ones, store bought ones and some very nice hand-me-down ones. Regardless of the tree, I always wanted it to be "perfect".

It had to have that perfect cone shape.

I wanted all the ornaments to match and have some sort of theme. 

My husband begged me for multi-color lights. My children begged me for fun, festive ornaments. I would always snap "no!" or go get an "alternate" tree for them.

No one wanted to decorate with me. No one got excited. No one felt very festive.

Sure, relatives would come over and go on and on about my lovely tree. How nicely decorated, how full and perfectly shaped. 

Last year was the first year I gave in to multi-color lights. Partly because I wanted my family to enjoy the season and partly because I had lost last year's box of ornaments and lights (this happens to me a lot) and the only lights they had left were multi-color. 

I sort of threw my hands up. "Now's as good a time as any." I bought the lights...

and matching ornaments.

Because I'll be damned if I have a tacky, mis-matched tree.

But this year- we've been so busy with the store- I got way behind on my decorating. I don't know what motivated me to get off the couch and go cut this sucker down, but I did it.

And it was awesome. 

This tree is by no means perfect. It's sparse and weird-shaped and really difficult to wrap with lights Martha Stewart style, but I love this tree.

Every time I look at it, I laugh. I laugh because I think of the comedy of errors it took to get it out of the thicket and into the house. I laugh because I think of how no one else has a tree like this taking up too much space in their living room. I laugh because this tree is a big "fuck you" to the perfect pointed cones lined up like little soldiers at the tree farms.

I laugh because this weird little tree is making me insanely happy right now.

It's making my husband and kids happy.

It reminded my dear, sweet cousin of going to cut trees with her dad when she was a kid.

And this little cedar sapling- proudly adorned with lights and ornaments (a good deal of them hand-made) and my beloved Frau Holle- is standing right in the middle of my living room. Right by the front window. 

It's beautiful because it's special. It makes us happy and we love it. We will celebrate this season of family and togetherness under the warm glow of lights from this dear little tree.

And I hope that I will remember all the lessons I am learning from this simple red cedar.

And I will be beautiful and adorned and loved and different.

Happy Holidays!!

The Other F-Word

FAT

The other F-Word. What images come to mind when you hear this word? What other words come to mind when someone says fat?

Lazy? Unattractive? Smelly? Sickly? Disgusting?

Why has fat become a bad word? I talked about this recently on my facebook page. Some well-meaning folks have come up with the term "no fat talk" to discourage people (women in particular) from negative self-talk. So, answer this for me- why is "fat" a bad word?

It's descriptive. I have black hair. I have blue eyes. I am five-foot-two. I am fat.

That does not make me gross, ugly, undesirable, lazy, or any number of other negative stereotypes that have been associated with that word.

Why is fat automatically associated with bad health? My husband has been fat for a long time. He was fat when I met him in high school and he's fat now. I've given him a hard time about it. I've worried and cried over it, and here's the kicker:

He's healthy.

His cholesterol is normal, his blood pressure is great, he has no sign of diabetes- everything checks out.

I feel like I need to point out that I'm not saying we should all go out and get fat, but I am also suggesting that weight doesn't have to be an indicator of health. I'm not unhealthy because I'm fat. I'm unhealthy because I don't move around enough and I eat a lot of garbage. Thin people can be unhealthy too.

I advocate lifestyle changes for health benefits, not to adjust the number on the scale or fit into a certain size dress.

I encourage women to stop bonding over self-loathing. Stop coming together to talk about food you can't eat because you want to lose weight. Enjoy life. Enjoy food. Enjoy the body you have and stop trying to cram it into some pre-determined mold created by the fashion industry.

Your body deserves for you to love it as it is right now. Treat it like you love it. Show it off, feed it good food, take it somewhere fun.

I am currently doing a lot of reading on the concept of Health at Every Size- which basically is exactly what it sounds like. Some people just aren't wired to be thin, just like some people aren't wired to be fat. At this juncture, I haven't read enough about it to determine how sound the information is, but it's something I'm looking into further.

Regardless, our bodies deserve to be loved and not mistreated. They are amazing!

10 Things

(I'd love to see a little reader feedback on this one, peeps!)

I'm going to name 10 things that I love about myself. Some of them are physical, some of them are not, but either way, they are things about me that are just great, and no one can tell me any different!

1. My Eyes

(Color again, but I'm trying to make a point here)

I have beautiful eyes. I was lucky enough to inherit this beautiful blue from my grandfather.

2. My Hair

I have great hair. It's thick, strong, and healthy. I may get tired of the color every now and again, but I appreciate the fact that it's smooth and shiny, with just a hint of a wave. I also love that I get cute little ringlet curls just at the base of my neck sometimes.

3. I can cook like a MoFo

I don't have a picture for this one, unless you go back and look at other ones of my belly :)

I love good food and I love to try new things. I pride myself on being able to throw down some amazing meals for my family and friends. 

4. My Feet

I don't know if I love them because they are pretty (which I think they are) or because my dad used to rub them when I was little to get me to sleep. As an adult, when I am down or not feeling well, my hubby rubs my feet to make me feel better. When I think of my feet, I think of love. It may sound strange to you, but it makes all the sense in the world to me.

5. My Brains

I'm smart and I think that's great. I've got enough book smarts to hold my own in most conversations (unless we're talking math, then- derp.) and I have a fair smattering of common sense. I love to learn and gobble up as much knowledge as I can.

6. My Sense of Humor

I'm pretty funny, if I do say so myself. I can be dry and witty or as blue and common as any redneck comedy tour. I make my friends laugh when they are down and people want to be around me because I make them happy.

7. My Laughs

Speaking of my sense of humor, I can't forget my laughs. I don't have just one, I have a variety. Everything from a Skeletor cackle to a Hordak snort (seriously- I laugh like He-Man and She-Ra villains sometimes)- how is that not great?! Sometimes I have a nice, big boisterous laugh that fills up a room. All of my laughs are awesome and I don't try to hide them.

8. My Creativity

I love to create things. I love to paint, sew, crochet (fuck knitting), and pretty much do anything else crafty I set my mind to. And you know what? I'm pretty damn good at it. I love looking at cool stuff on Pinterest and being able to recreate it myself. I love how quickly I learn new crafting techniques and seeing the outcome. Of course, my hubby isn't thrilled about the crafting supplies piling up in the house. Sorry, Papa Bear. Love you!

9.  My Parenting Skills

This one is low on the list because every parent has their doubts, but overall- I think I do pretty well. I'm very open and frank with my kids about a lot of things. We've had talks about sex, politics, religion, body image issues, all kinds of things. I love that my kids come to me with tough questions. I'm not the cuddly, coddly mom, but I love my kids fiercely and will fight hard to protect them.

10.  My Writing

I've often been praised by my writing ability, and it took many years for me to believe it. I'm not half bad. I've turned out a few poems that are (I think) pretty decent, and I've always had a knack for writing papers and such. I feel like blogging suits me because it allows me to flex my creative muscles in this area and share my talent with people who appreciate it. 

In Darkness

Today, I'm not struggling with body image issues. Today, it goes much deeper. I'm dealing with feelings of inadequacy.

I don't feel like I deserve to write this blog.

It didn't start with this, of course- but as my depression has been with me all day today, and I don't feel qualified to talk to anyone about positivity.

I'm struggling with all the ways I fall short. I'm struggling to convince myself that the things I'm beating myself up about right now aren't real- aren't true. Maybe by the light of another day, I'll be able to look back on this and wrap myself in a big mental hug. It's been a little while since I've felt like this.

Don't think I'm some long-recovered veteran. I'm struggling through this daily. This blog is a first step, not an end step. This is supposed to by my therapy.

I've always written things down when I was struggling with something. I wrote notes to my friends, bad poems, just anything really, to get my feelings to line up in black and white.

The Militant Baker wrote a great post today on diagramming your shit out when things get overwhelming. I followed her advice, because she is awesome and has helped me a lot before. Part of my "action plan" of thing to do right now was to go back and read my own words- think back on all these positive feedback I've gotten from people who have enjoyed my blog. Also, I told myself that I need to blog about this experience so I can help other people through it (once I was through it myself, of course.)

As I try to write this right now, all I can think is that I don't want you to feel this way. I wouldn't want anyone to feel this worthless and lost, but I can't seem to crawl out from under it right now.

I know that my suffering doesn't lessen yours, and for those who love me and are close to me, I bring them sadness, frustration, and suffering of their own. And that just makes me want to curl into a tiny ball.

Why can't I just break out, when I know that's what would be best? Feel best?  It seems so simple, but it just isn't right now. I can't seem to find the strength to make the effort.

The thing is, it's not just about cheering up and feeling better. I have a problem that requires a solution, and from where I am right now, I can't see one.

Honestly, going back and reading my blog doesn't make me feel better. Right now, it makes me want to tear it apart. It all feels like lies right now.

My face is puffy from crying and my dog is trying to cheer me up

__________________________________________________

This is where I was the other day.

This is truth. This is what happens when I "go dark".

I can't say I'm all the way through it. I still feel like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff, leaning waaaay back, and that all of you are holding onto me, not letting me drop over that edge.

I will admit that answers don't seem forthcoming, and I'm no closer to a solution, but I don't feel so hopeless now. I feel like if there is an answer, I am in a better place to receive and understand it.

I spent a lot of time screaming and crying hysterically, and that didn't help. I tried retreating inward, but that didn't help. I tried blogging, and honestly- that didn't help at the time.

Sometimes people have bad days. Sometimes, people have a couple of bad days in a row.

I know that I haven't experienced my last bad day (wouldn't that be great though?), but I feel like I am coming to the other side of it now, and it didn't defeat me. I don't feel stronger or better, but I am still undefeated- and sometimes, that is enough.

For now, I am staying tentatively positive. I am reminding myself that I am a beautiful, wonderful person. I have a place in this world, surrounded by friends and family.

The Worst Part

I've been thin

I've been fat

And everything in between.

But the worst part for me, regardless of my weight- has always been my face. I've always felt ugly. My friends and I used to play this sick game where we would name a body part (or a facial feature) and say everything that was wrong with it. I was really, really good at that game.

I've told myself a million times that it's okay to be ugly. Some people just are ugly and that's all there is to it.

"With 7 billion people in the world, we don't all get to be good-looking. Some of us have to be monsters. That's just the way it is."

That crock of shit is a direct quote from me, and I still feel this way sometimes.

That kind of deeply etched self-hate doesn't go away quickly.

People can call me fat, people can tell me I'm not as fat as I think I am- those are things I can cope with, but if someone to tells me I have a pretty face, I have to fight the urge to become furious. After so many years of convincing myself that I'm ugly (and trying to convince myself that I'm okay with that) being told that I'm not is very, very hard to hear.

You might think I would be excited to hear someone say I'm pretty, but I don't take it well. I'm learning. I'm getting better. I've gotten to the point where I can say "thank you" to a compliment without grinding my teeth.

I don't tell people that I think I'm ugly because I am fishing for compliments. I said it because I sincerely believed it. I still do some days, but I'm trying to move into a healthier frame of mind. I used to tell myself that I could believe I was ugly and still have a positive body image, but I was lying to myself. I can't feel ugly and accept that as healthy.

This last one isn't black and white (couldn't figure out how to do that with my webcam), but it is me. As I am right this minute, as I type this blog. No makeup, uncooperative hair- just me being me.

And I have to look this girl in the eyes every day and tell her that she is beautiful.

Because I am.

And I deserve it.

No one deserves to feel ugly. I've said it before- the world outside is working very hard to make us hate ourselves and to make us feel worthless. There's no need for us to inflict this pain on ourselves. 

It's not always easy to be kind to yourself- it's easier to be beaten down because so many people are willing to help you do it.

But I'm going to let you in on a secret:

The best people won't.

The best kind of people won't stand idly by and let you tear yourself to pieces. I am very lucky to have some of the best people in my life. 

I want to be one of those people for you. 

I want to be one of those people for me.

If you're struggling with body image and you're here with me, reading this, I want you to know that you are beautiful.

You are beautiful because you are uniquely you. Your life is your gift and your body is the temple in which you get to experience that gift.

Cherish it!

Getting Naked for Cameras (MNSFW)

A few months ago, my best friend and I talked about getting together and doing boudoir photo shoots to make calendars or something to give our hubbies. I immediately ran off to Pinterest to find out how to Photoshop to remove all my cellulite and stretch marks, and to learn what poses would best hide my jiggles and jellyrolls. 

For a myriad of reasons, we never got around to doing that shoot, and now I am posting naked, unedited pictures of myself on the internet. Granted, the audience that views them in their full glory is small, but it's a brave step for me to bare myself to strangers. 

That's beside the point though. The point I was trying to make is how silly it seems to me now to want to take intimate pictures for a man who knows exactly what I look like, and try to alter them. What purpose would that serve? My husband knows all about my fat rolls, my chicken pox scars, and all the other external imperfections that make up the woman he loves. 

Photoshop isn't going to change what he sees when he looks at me. 

I'm going to share with you some of the pictures that he took of me in a photo session a few days ago. I wasn't going to use them for stylistic reasons (didn't like the lighting, angle, backdrop, or my eyes were closed or something to that end), but he liked the pictures because they are of me, he could see all of me, and in some of them, I was smiling. Of course he sexualizes these images, which is something that I have to come to terms with. It's hard for me to imagine that he would rather see pictures of me than of porn stars or other, more attractive women.

It's not because I have a perfect body or because he has perverse taste in women (which I have accused him of and I need to say- honey, I'm sorry. That was mean and uncalled for). It's because he loves me. He has accepted me just the way I am, "warts and all" as the saying goes, and that makes me a very lucky lady.