Worldly Wednesday

So, it's definitely Thursday. And I forgot to do one of these last week. Maybe I need to rename it to like "Weekly Re-Cap" or something. I'll iron out those details later. Apparently all the good things I saw this week had to do with some really fabulous fat chicks. So today we'll just do "Woman Crush Wednesday".

*WARNING: This post contains adult language and a lady in her underwear. 

NOT SAFE FOR WORK. *

I have been seeing more and more fabulous plus-sized models and I am loving it! Case and point: This incredible model from www.foreveryourslingerie.ca. I notice a lot of times companies advertise models who are a size 6 or 8 and try to call them plus-sized. While these models are very beautiful, they are NOT plus sized. To try and claim they are is really just perpetuating a negative stereotype. You can't have it both ways. If you are going to offer clothes in a 14+ then use models who fit your clothes. This isn't rocket science. When I see truly plus-sized models up there, especially in lingerie, I am in awe. I see her rolls, her under arm chub, and the way her thighs rub and you know what? It's fucking beautiful. She has full lips, stunning eyes, and hair to die for but my eyes are drawn to her figure. I won't go as far as to say "I love to see models who look like me" because honestly, they are few and far between. I am not 5'7" or above so I don't carry my weight the same way these ladies do. I just love to see the fashion industry really opening up to different types of women! It is so helpful to look at a piece of clothing on a woman with a big bust and round booty so I can get an idea of what it will look like on my curves. When a more petite model displays clothing, I have a hard time judging how it might fit me. 

Can we please take a few minutes to admire some of the kick-ass ladies who are rocking the World with their talent and their luscious bodies?! I want to start with Mary Lambert because right now she's kind of my idol. I like to tell myself that I kind of look like her because we both have red hair and our noses are kind of the same, but that's about where the similarities end. She is so genuine and raw and, as she says, "hella gay"! She blesses us with her incredible heart and soul through her poems and songs. Give her a listen over at her youtube channel here or go buy her book of poems "500 Tips For Fat Girls" here. Watching her perform breaks my heart every single time. She puts all of her heart into every word she sings. 

Okay so maybe I'm just wanting to sing about incredible singer-song writers because my other favorite lady is Meghan Tonjes. The number one reason I love her is because she came into the lime light as the big, beautiful woman she is and she put her voice out there and she let people criticize her...and then she bettered herself. She worked on her voice, she worked on her guitar, she wrote and wrote and wrote. She was never ashamed to be fat. The very first thing I ever saw Meghan Tonjes do was this incredible video where she is 500% unapologetic for her fat body. As you can see, she has since changed her diet and started exercising more, but she is still as lovely as ever. Another reason I admire her is because she has always loved her body for what it is and while she did work very hard to change it, she didn't start because of some nasty email or a negative view on who she was. I sometimes struggle with the idea of being proud of my body and wanting to do stuff that is healthy and that I enjoy. Meghan Tonjes reminds me that it is about loving the skin you're in. You can advocate for body love and discourage fat shaming even if you don't wear a size 14+ and even if you are a habitual runner. Just keep being beautiful and good spirited. Meghan Tonjes writes Earth-shattering music and makes covers that make you wonder why you ever hated that song in the first place. She is probably the perfect example of how to balance being wild and free with being incredibly smart and inspirational. The best part of her is that she is always true to herself and she always makes my heart smile. You can go to her Youtube channel any time to see her do F.A.T. (Frequently Asked Tonjes) where she goes over her many opinions, as well as hear all of her incredible music. 

I know I bring her up a lot but Jes who runs the blog over at www.themilitantbaker.com is really, seriously, amazing. One of my favorite installations she does is "25 Things Fat People Shouldn't Do". These posts are always just so fun. This week she shimmied and it was glorious. To be completely honest, the video is pretty bad and I have never felt so secure in my inability to shimmy. If you would like to enjoy the video, you can find it in her post here. One huge bonus to the post is that she added a how-to video from the lovely Miss Pearl Necklace. I mean really, have you ever seen so much awesomeness in a performer before?! Just because I want to make sure to overload your eyeballs with ALL THE BEAUTIES, check out her adorableness to the left. Also, if you haven't already, please go check out her blog. She updates all the time and seriously, every single post is a gem. She single-handedly inspired me to start this blog. Y'all I even emailed her and SHE REPLIED! So, anyways, she is probably the best ever and you are welcome to admire her as much as I do.

I don't know HOW I haven't brought her up before, but Rachelle is so stylish it hurts! I mean, are you kidding me with this skirt?! I look at her blog on the daily just to see what she's wearing. She is probably the biggest influence when it comes to my relationship to clothing at the present moment. I have seen her in leggings, high-waited pants, shirts, skirts...you name it! She wears everything people try to say she shouldn't wear and she looks like a fucking rock star all the time. Also, I may or may not be obsessed with figuring out how to master the bee-hive hairdo because of her. Don't be surprised when it becomes my signature look. So, in addition to her outstanding fashion choices, why do I love her so much? She runs my favorite ecourse: HOW TO BE A FAT BITCH! She touches on so many subjects ranging from how to deal with media influence to being visible and brave. She really is someone that all women can, and should, look up to. I don't know many people who can radiate that much sweet, beautiful, pure energy. Soak it up my friends! 

Now that was just a short little post of some ladies I follow on a pretty regular basis. Now, I do want to say that I look up to many ladies and gentlemen that are not fat. A huge part of my life exists that is separate entirely from the body positive movement. Maybe I will go over that more in my next post. I write about it often because it is a big part of the transition I am going through as a 21 year old woman and I want to share that with y'all. To be honest, it was a coincidence that the first two ladies I highlighted happened to be curvy. When I noticed the trend, I just rounded it off with my two favorite bloggers. The biggest things I wanted to mention in this post were: confidence, love, bravery, and the blessing of sharing everything with the World. These ladies bring sunshine and happiness into my life. I cried when Mary Lambert cried during her VMA performance, I get stitches from laughing with Meghan Tonjes, I turn to Jes when I feel like a failure, and Rachelle tells me that I look fucking fabulous when I am feeling bloated and frumpy. These women, who have never spoken to me directly, help me keep my head on straight. I hope they can inspire you in some way.

Stream of consciousness

*WARNING this post is graphic. This could be very triggering to many people. Please proceed with caution.*

I will try to avoid these kinds of posts, but I reached out to do a stream of consciousness and this is just what came out. Since a big factor of this blog is learning how to find my voice, i think it is imperative that I do not fight these writing urges. Free flow seems to be my best work so I want to open up to it and see where it goes. This is not written in present day. I went ahead and did a second, much more pleasant piece after this. 

The ache in my chest is dull and distracting. It warms me from my core and spreads slowly like molasses. Soon my joints are stiff and my eyes are glazed and I cannot tell if this is some horrible dream. I am struck dumb with this feeling of restraint. I am full and hot and it feels as if my skin is porcelain and I crack under all of these feelings. Feeling. Feeling heavy as if someone gathered up all the anxiety and tied a lead weight on the end. They held up my head as they forced it down my throat in spoonfuls. Face after face whispers, chants, everything is okay. Everything will be fine. But it's a lie and I almost wonder what they would say if they really heard what I was saying. Idly the pen scrape, scrape, scrapes along the paper. The springs in the chair groan with each new line of script and I am raw. My skin is opened in wounds both literal and figurative as they pry. They come upon the deepest pains and they force me to remember. My head is again in their lap and they icy hands are on my throat. Nails rest upon my brow bone, then trail to my cheeks, and they are holding my eyelids. Nails press my eyelids taut against the hollows of my eye sockets and I panic. My breath rushes out of me at such a speed that I feel maybe I am dying. Maybe my heart has finally hit the speed where it gets too tired and finally. just. stops. My eyeballs sting and become bloodshot as they turn my head toward the memories. Their voice hisses at me to look, to think, to recall. I am digging, I am crying, I am shaking and still they push me. The taste is in my mouth and his face is in my view and the carpet has dug into my knees. I am on the bed and my clothes are on the floor and someone's voice trails in from above me but all I hear is groaning. The walls are damp and dark with the things we do. The lights flicker with the aches inside me because no one is around to hear the screams. Or am I? I don't remember and she pushes, she pushes, and I think maybe I never fought back. I think maybe I said okay. I think maybe I laid there and cried but never really said no. Everytime we push, I am in the present day because it would break me to remember me as I was. I think I like to pretend it is current-day me. I like to pretend it is the messed up version of me with dried blood under my nails and rows of pill bottles on my shelves. I have uncovered a new detail and that satisfies the beast. She asks how long its been. How long since I indulged in the sweet pull of the blade. How many sunrises have I seen without a bloodied rag in my hand. I lie to her and she knows, so she repeats the question. I tell her this time it was a burn, or a bruise, or I pulled my hair until the tears came because I needed to. She doesn't understand, but she accepts the truth. No one really can understand the way it feels. Everyone else knows how to feel and how to cry and how to hurt without it breaking them, but not me. All i know it the way I feel when I have become full of unfelt emotions. The only feeling I can connect with is the sting, then the rush, then the moment of relief. One solid moment where I don't have to feel any of those things. There may even be pride there. I might think that I am a damn genius for finding something that frees me of all the pain. I swallow my pills and I go to bed with the knife in my hand because tonight I am weak.



The light of the keys illuminates my shaking hands and all at once I lose the sliver of bravery I had. I am staring at the display as though I can simply will it to happen and it doesn't. I back out of it, then type it back in, and back out once more. I am fidgeting on my bed. I roll onto my side and dial, then twirl onto my back and hit send. Then I hit end over and over until I am certain you didn't hear me try to call. For what feels like the first time in my life, I have no idea what I am going to say. The conversation plays in my head where I sound like a small child and you just laugh at every word I conjure. I imagine an instance where you gave me a fake number and the person on the other end hangs up because the sound of my sobs is the only reply I have. I glance out at the stars and the trees and the lights on the road and I dial, and I hit enter, and I hold my breath. When it rings I know I have made a mistake and I swear I nearly vomit. Then your voice is there. Oh God your voice is there and it's so tender and sweet. I pinch myself-literally pinch myself to make sure the sounds I'm hearing aren't the murmurs of an angel. I speak, I think, or I at least make a noise and I can hear the smile in your voice. You are smiling-at me-for me. We somehow manage to get past all of that and have a conversation. Now I could not tell you any words you said or count the ways I struggled to not make a fool of myself. All I know is the absolute sense of comfort that your voice wrapped me in. I can tell you about my aching stomach after all the laughter I tried to muffle in those late hours. I can recall the exact moment you made my life complete by vocalizing my favorite thing ever. The very second my heart ceased to beat as your tongue released the most harmonic 'I love you'. I have to shake myself. Am I sure that really just happened? My mouth deceives me by releasing a grin instead of a reply. I am so nervous when I finally spit out that I love you too. And my heart sinks because I know it didn't sound like waves lapping at your feet or like butterfly wings on a Spring breeze but you tell me it did. You swear back and forth that it was the most beautiful thing ever-that I am the most beautiful, and my heart rips wide open solely so it can revel in the feeling of you healing it. In the early hours I cannot silence the stirrings in my chest. When my alarm chimes I am breathless; thinking you've called to say you missed me in your sleep. I count the hours until sundown and when you tell me I can call, I am back to square one.

Me, Myself, and I.

I revel in the fact that I can look back and say "I've come so far". I think of all the times it could have been worse and all the roads I could have gone down instead. I will not minimize the things I have done or accomplished  but the fact of the matter is I will always struggle with myself.

*WARNING: This post is about mental illness with brief mentions of abuse, self injury, etc.

There was a very scary time in my life when I was lost inside myself. The thought of rolling out of my bed seemed so daunting and agonizing that I found myself habitually missing the bus before school. I spent endless hours making up "what ifs" and chewing on my nails because there was so much worry in my head I thought I might explode. I prayed for rain every day so I wouldn't have to face the shame of someone seeing the scabs on my legs. My brain and my heart were so sick that I fell into a scary World from which I never expected to escape. 

I have left that horrible time behind me. It took a lot work from a lot of people, including myself, but I found that the sun really could shine again. Getting better seemed just as scary as getting sicker would have been, but I started this journey to recovery and here I am. I'm not at the end of the road because, well, there is no end when you have mental illness. There will be no point in your life when you will look around and say "Oh look at that! I'm all better! What a relief!" There's some crazy formula that has mixed my genetics with past abuse and brain chemicals and had ended in a very particular set of illnesses. Along with my wild soul, my brave heart, and my steady feet, I have a really confused brain. I see and experience the World differently from most people, and that's okay. 

My alarm goes off at 6:45. The buzzing is electrifying and I can't turn it off quickly enough. I need to hurry up and pee so I can get to the kitchen and let the dogs out. I don't stay and watch them because I am thirsty and if I don't drink 1/2 of the green water bottle worth of water before breakfast, I will be dehydrated all day. I have to rush the dogs inside and I leave them to sort out whose food is whose because I need to cook and top my bagel right now. They eat too fast and by the time I sit on the couch with my snuggie, they are in my face. I need to eat this bagel and drink another 1/4 of the water before 7:10 or else...or else... I need to put on my make-up and tame my hair in 15 minutes. There is no end to my frustration over the fact that this seems to be impossible every.single.morning. The clock says 7:30 and I've lost it. I am crazy over the fact that I will be so late I will probably get fired. Maybe I yell at the dogs for being in my way or I jostle my husband out of his slumber. I swear under my breath because the 5 minutes it takes to make my coffee is too damn long. Because I need to be out the door and why the hell isn't my husband locking the dogs in their kennels? It's 7:45 and I know 100% without a doubt I am late. The cars aren't moving and this light is taking forever and I swear we took a wrong turn and it's 7:58 and I'm here. But it takes longer for me to get a grip on reality before I can move forward and put up my lunch. The last hour was off by a few minutes and it felt as if it had taken years just to make it into work. I need to breathe. I need to stretch my neck. I need to drink my coffee. Everything is fine and I'm not late and everything is fine. I sit and wonder what it must be like to not have this battle 5 days a week. 

I don't tell anyone about this hysteria I experience as the clock ticks away on the wall. I try so hard to get my head together before anyone comes in so they don't know I'm crazy. When I'm in the bathroom and I have a quick pee, I don't always wash my hands. Gross, right? But I do it because I didn't use to have the control to not wash them. Sure, in a dirty bathroom or a really public one I will wash..and maybe even sanitize as well. But I don't need to every single time. When someone talks and I get stuck on a word, and I think about it for 10 minutes I get so frustrated. I spell it and whisper it and chew my lip for as many letters are in the word and I am stuck. But I don't write it in the air with my finger, or write it on paper, or go over it for hours on end. When my heart is tight and my leg is bouncing and all I can focus on is the bad stuff, I really struggle to pull back. I have a hard time moving past the worries but I know I have to so I pick and pull and pry myself away...at least for a while. 

I get really upset with myself sometimes when I hit a rough patch. It's been years. I've done my time. I've had my therapy, taken my pills, fought my battles. I have poured so much time and love into myself that I feel like I deserve to be better damnit, and I'm just not. So I dig for some more patience, sprinkle a little forgiveness, and tell myself that it is okay to have bad days. I worry that people are going to see me having a bad day. I know the stigma associated to mental illness and even worse, I know the fear I'll see in their eyes. Other people aren't going to get why being 5 minutes late is "that big of a deal". They're going to get upset when I insist on cutting the night short because yes I am tired, and yes I have the rest of my life to sleep, but I planned to get 8 hours of sleep and I'm already only going to get 7 1/2 and every moment we spend arguing is cutting into that and that is a problem for me. My brain doesn't work the same way as everyone else's. 

Despite all of the things I have accomplished, having mental illnesses is the one thing that can threaten my happiness. I am so proud of my progress and so ashamed of how far I have left to go all at once. My husband is always telling me I an enigma. I guess there's worse things to be. 

LESLEY KINZEL AT XOJANE.COM

"I won’t say that hating our bodies is a universal experience, because I know that it’s not, but it is a pretty common one. The problem with a lot of the rhetoric around the whole “love and accept yourself unconditionally” ideology — popular and awesome-feeling though the words may sound — is that it doesn’t leave much space for individual realities, complicated as they are. There are many reasons why loving your body may occasionally be impossible. It happens. 

Allowing yourself to then feel like crap about your apparent lack of perfect loving joyfulness in your every molecule is self-defeating. I prefer to advocate for acceptance, because acceptance doesn’t place a value — positive or negative — on our bodies, or our bodily parts. Love can be fickle, but acceptance is not. Your body, and all its little idiosyncrasies and annoyances, exists. You cannot blink the frustrating parts away, and you cannot wish them into oblivion. If you are able tochange them, it will probably take time. So you may as well accept them, as they are, right now. 

Acceptance doesn’t mean “I will never change,” it means, “I will roll with whatever changes come,” because bodily changes are inevitable, no matter what you do. I’m fat, and most of the time I love my body. When I don’t, I accept it, and I steadfastly refuse to hate it, because there is no point to hating the awesome vehicle that allows me to interact with and participate in the world. It’s the only one I get. Sure, 24-hour self-love may be the ideal, and we can keep striving for it, but first we must forgive our bodies for not being perfect, and forgive ourselves for any anger or despair we may feel in wanting this to be so. We would do well to remember that in some relationships, forgiveness can be far more powerful than unconditional love. This is true for our bodies too." - Lesley Kinzel

I just had to share this with all of you. This is from a phenomenal blogger named Lesley Kinzel. You can find her over at www.xojane.com 

REAL

Let's get REAL. 

We're talking 'REAL men' and 'REAL women'. 

The World today is fascinated with defining what a person should do, how they should act, and how "we" would prefer them to look. People are so worried about not having control. It seems as if they can make up enough rules and file people into tight enough compartments, they can face others without insecurity and anxiety. One idea that seems particularly troubling to me is the idea of what makes a man a "real man" and what makes a woman a "real woman". I feel it is important to note that the idea of a "real man" is based on his emotions, his household role, and his masculinity. The bizarre part is that the idea of a "real woman" has nothing to do with the character, emotion, or ideals of a woman. A "real woman" is defined solely on her appearance. At this point, you should already be upset. People who perpetuate these ideas are not afraid to say to the World that a woman is nothing more than something to look at. These people are proud to put their spirited, talented, joyous little boys into all the sports they don't want to play because "that is what boys do". Quite frankly, these two phrases alone are responsible for breaking down a huge number of human beings. 

That being said, I would like to talk just about "real men" for a little bit. 

Real men have shoulders for your tears, hands to hold your heart, and two sturdy feet. They accept the role of caretaker and occasionally they need you to take that place so they, too, can hurt. Real men take great pride in the lives they lead. They fall head over heels in love with women..and with men..and then they treat their partners with respect. Real men will never raise their hands in anger or use their tongues to degrade you. Real men may not have wanted kids and they may not be ready for them, or they may have waited their whole lives for this moment, but they will love their children with every ounce of their being. They will go forth and conquer things that make them quake with fear and, if you're lucky enough, they will tell you all about the experience. Real men feel every high and every low their lives has to offer. How they choose to cope with and show those emotions is no business of yours. Real men is not afraid to admit that they're not good at everything. They will, however,  take great pride in the things they do excel at. Real men have hopes and ambitions. They may or may not need a little push to get them going. Real men have a right to choose their own preferences. Including, but not limited to: romantic and sexual partners, clothes, vehicles, jobs, and household roles. None of these choices will in any way add to or subtract from his "realness". 

Masculinity does not equal worth. Every real man is someone's hero.

Now we'll talk about "real women" for a moment.

Real women have arms to hold you, eyes to see into your soul, and a heart which is not always in their control. They are so much more than their bodies. Real women have a voice. It may be timid, or it may be sure, but it is there and it should be heard. Real women will get heartbroken. They will hurt, they will cry, they will hold grudges. They will also pick up the pieces as you fall apart, start a revolution, and show you strength you've never seen. Real women are sometimes a 00 and sometimes they are a 30. They may not fit in "conventional sizes" but that has nothing to do with their "realness". Real women don't let other people put limits on their dreams. Real women have the right to make decisions when it comes to their bodies. Real women sometimes do get abortions, have sex before marriage, use birth control, choose to have unprotected sex, get plastic surgery, or raise families of 5+ children. Real women will not use love as a ploy. They will not tell someone they love them if it isn't true. Real women will not hold your weaknesses against you or shame you for your misgivings. Real women will never make you choose them over someone or something else. Real women do not stand in the way of their own happiness. 

Size and worth are not mutually exclusive. 

"You do not have a soul, you are a soul. You have a body." -C.S.Lewis

This is a quote that I believe in very strongly. Each person is defined by the soul they have. If you are kind, if you are strong, if you are greedy or angry, these are all reflections of your soul; your being. I do not believe that being born in a male or female body has anything to do with whether you are male or female. A "real man" or "real woman" should have nothing to do with how you look to the outside World. This post does not cover every aspect of what it means to be a "real man" or a "real woman". To me, the only thing separating some of the population from fitting into these categories is their choice to not act accordingly. I hope some day we live in a World where there is no distinction. We should never have to clarify that you shouldn't beat your wife, humiliate your husband, or try to define another person. 

WORLDLY WEDNESDAY

I want to start a weekly post every Wednesday. In every post you will see snippets of things I saw that week that made an impact on me. I plan on it being everything from moving lyrics to heartbreaking news stories. From killer fashion to blog posts that move me. 

To begin the very first Worldly Wednesday post, here's Jess speaking about the HISTORY behind the current beauty standards: Why Do We Hate Ourselves?

ASOS Curve has released part of its new line and I LOVE IT! This new line is currently on sale! I mean really, look at that T-shirt dress. I need it in my life!

P.S. This company makes really yummy clothes and accessories. They offer everything from petite to maternity and of course this fabulous curve line. I haven't bought anything yet because of my wallet but I have dreams of these dresses.

I saw this collage of Jessica Simpson on the internet today and I couldn't believe my eyes. There are so many things wrong with this ONE photo that I don't know where to begin. 

*These photos are taken YEARS apart. A lot of women keep growing and filling out in their 20s. GET OVER IT!

*The first and second photos are both beautiful. In fact, the only difference I see is age. I definitely don't see a "weight problem".

*The bottom left photo is very awkward. As if to portray that when she gained a little weight, she was magically not attractive. Personally, I loved this look for Jessica. She seemed very happy with where she was despite the media panic. 

*In the bottom right photo she is pregnant! Not to minimize the fact that Jessica Simpson is incredibly beautiful at all of these weights, but to insinuate that her weight gain was only caused by food is idiotic. 

*I am still amazed that not only do people find things like this acceptable, but they also enjoy it. I hear things like "She deserves to get fat" because of their celebrity status or "Haha now she's like a regular person". Even worse are the comments that suggest her weight gain is some sort of national tragedy. As if this woman (and all women) exist purely to be visually appealing. Ideas like "What good is she now that she's not hot?" fill my heart with rage. 

The latest "development" in the Steubenville case has me seething. The entire case has been an absolute horror and honestly this new so called "plan" is turning the entire thing into a JOKE! When will the rape culture be put to an end? 

Now that I work in a more conservative office, I keep playing around with ideas to stay true to me. My number one idea is my hair! Recently I have been keeping it pretty red and managed in a short bob. While I haven't decided on another short to medium length haircut just yet, I think I have settled on a color scheme. I love the platinum blonde highlights at the crown!! The way hers are set make me think a tighter more cropped haircut, similar to a pixie. 

THIS project is so near and dear to my heart. I like to visit the website periodically for a daily dose of inspiration. One young man reached out and so many other good souls are participating.


Lately I have noticed a lot of people feeling like the World is out to get them. They have turned inward to avoid being hurt but all of those on the outside. I think this is such a bad message to be spreading. We shouldn't learn to be best friends with ourselves out of spite. A relationship built on negativity will be poisoned. We need to be in love with ourselves before we let other people in. We need to see all of the best in ourselves so that when things go sour, we know better. We need to believe in ourselves 100% whether someone else is there to cheer us on or not. We should be friends with ourselves because it enriches our souls. 

I read on a favorite facebook page that instead of backing the idea that all bodies are beautiful, we are slowly turning to asking "Who the fuck gets to define beautiful?" I agree with this sentiment completely. For so long people have used the phrase 'beauty is in the eye of the beholder' but it doesn't seem like many subscribe to that idea any longer. "Society" has so deeply instilled an idea of beauty and to a degree, most people follow along blindly. When I was first entering adolescence, I was way behind on the eyebrow plucking agenda. I had always thought my eyebrow and eyelash hair was too light. I preferred a stronger look but I never had the guts to play up those features because it wasn't 'beautiful'. Imagine the joy I felt when models started getting darker, bolder, longer eyebrows. The same joy came over me when ladies in the media were aiming for this all-natural sort of look ala Lady Gaga's photoshoot. The reason I like these trends so much is because I feel like for the first time, I am able to melt into the general idea of beauty. Probably my hardest habit to break is wondering if anyone else will find me pretty when I get ready in the morning. I have stopped worrying about the fit and style of my clothes. I have embraced every curve, roll, and wrinkle in my body. I struggle a lot more with accepting my face. The movement is about personal beauty and acceptance, but the focus seems to be on bodies. I want someone to show me how to achieve the perfect nude look, just like in this photo. I want to learn how to use the tools I have to share what I see with the rest of the World. No one gets to define 'beautiful'. You need to sit there each morning and compliment yourself while you style your hair, apply your make-up, and dress. You need to see and believe in all of the beauty that is you. You are a beautiful soul and the best part of your physical beauty is that no one else in the World has it like you do. No one has that same strong brow bone. The one that probably comes from the same gene that gave you your broad shoulders and strong thighs. No one in the World has those same cheek bones. The ones that speak of your native heritage, your old blood, and your love of the Earth. No one's eyes can speak the way yours do. You can look at yourself piece by piece, inch by inch, or pound by pound, but you must have the strength and love to see yourself for the beautiful person you are. 

It Can Be For You!

My Top 10 List of Things I Like About Myself That Are Not Related to Physical Appearance:

1.   I genuinely enjoy living my life just the way it is.

2.   My first instinct is to love someone. It's never hard work.

3.   I am in tune with my body.

4.   I am a natural with children.

5.   I have approximately 20 different laughs. All of them are             contagious.

6.   I am a habitual planner. This comes in handy all the time.

7.   I love all kinds of fun! Nowhere is too fancy, too muddy, or too hot to hinder my joy.

8.   I am a dreamer. I daydream during my free time and I can't stand when I sleep so deeply that I forget my dreams.

9.   I find it fulfilling to make other people smile. 

10.   I am the way I am naturally. There is no other person in the World like me. 

This was a little harder than I thought it would be. I had to challenge myself to forget about my physical body and dig into who I am. I want to challenge you to make a list like this. What is it that makes you who you are? What things are you uniquely good at? 

WARNING: This task may make you feel like you're bragging, but you're not. Don't be ashamed of the good in you. Don't feel like your achievements or personality are something to hide away from the World. This is a really good first step in living unapologetically. I'm sorry that I'm not sorry.

Tenderness

What sort of thing blows you away? When do you step back and revel in just how blessed you truly are by the people in your life?

Despite what some people may think, I have always been surrounded by people who love me. I may have been lost in my pain over the years and not realized they were there, but I was never walking without people following behind, ready to catch me. In fact, I was loved with such ferocity that sometimes I had a hard time accepting it. I believe that most people have so much love in their lives that it becomes comfortable for them. We subconsciously take it for granted. We wake every morning knowing that someone loves us and we lay our heads down at night with a full heart. We are never left wanting for love. What a beautiful fact! When I stop and think about it, I feel a rush of bliss. I know that everywhere I go, I am loved. I know that no matter what I do or don't do, I am loved. That's the foundation for a beautiful life.

I wanted to write this to help people reflect on the love they have in their lives. I wanted to share some of the most tender moments in my life with you. I would love if you share a moment of tenderness with me in the comments. Try to take time every night to reflect on the positive forces in your life and be thankful for them. 

This post is sparked by a moment I had with my husband last night. As you may know, we have faced a lot of trouble getting our feet on the ground since he was discharged from the Army. We have been staying with friends and while we are very grateful, we are ready to take that leap out on our own. Last night we put a security deposit down on a rental house. It's old, and small, and needs a lot of love. It's got some issues that we will want to fix before we let anyone come over, but it's ours, and that is all we could ever want. So while we're lying in bed, we start joking about the house. We brainstorm how to make it look better, how funny our new fridge will look with the old white appliance, and decide that I am not allowed outside for fear I will be eaten alive by mosquitoes. I joke about how it was growing up for me sometimes. I tell him that until he has tried to eat ramen noodles with spaghetti sauce on them, he isn't poor, and we will be okay. We go back and forth, joking about things we used to do to get by, and I think I can hear him falling more in love with me. His voice starts to change, he reaches over and strokes my face. I tell him about the first nice make-up I owned. Really, the first make-up I ever bought by myself. For my 16th birthday my friend got me a MAC giftcard and my mom took me in to pick out 3 eyeshadows. To this day I have those eyeshadows in my bag, and I wear them all the time. He starts whispering promises. "We'll buy you some new make-up baby. We'll get you some heels." To someone else it may sound like a joke, or like stupid banter, but it meant a lot to me. Of course I know we can't do any of that until I get a few more checks, but the fact that he says it just breaks my heart. He wants so badly to give me everything I ever wanted. He knows I am happy just like this, but he wants to make up for all the years I wasn't. 

I remember not long ago, a close friend told me a very deep secret. Maybe I wasn't her first choice, but the fact that she wanted to share it with me was so special. She skyped me, so I got to see her beautiful face, and she let me into her World for a while. After being separated for years, this was as good as it got. I don't know if it made her feel better, or if I had any advice she followed, but she trusted me and loved me enough to tell me. I am thankful for that. 

On my birthday this year, another old friend called me up and sang to me. I don't think I've smiled like that in a while. For her to remember my birthday, find my number, and spend all that time catching up was so precious. My heart was full for days on that one conversation. Nothing brings light into my World like feeling close to those who know me the best. 

A very dark day in my past, I reached for the phone and called my ex-boyfriend. The call may have been scary, frantic, and angry, but the fact that he picked up and did what he needed to do saved my life. He called the right people and did it with such urgency and grace. I could never thank him enough for his part in that day. While I believe any one else would have tried to help in that situation, I think he did it with the love I needed. He provided a lot of support afterward too. 

When I was in the hospital I met a boy and we became pretty close. There was a strict no touching rule for the patients and typically that wasn't an issue. He and I grew together without the need for physical contact. Just being on the same page and really understanding what it was like was enough. On the day of his discharge, the halls were empty, and he ran. We were locked in the tightest, sweetest hug I have ever gotten in my life. For a moment I felt all the love we shared as friends. I never saw or talked to him after that day, but I think I will lock that moment away forever.

On the day of my wedding, after we said our "I do"s, the family came by and hugged us. My father in law had tears in his eyes. No matter how he may have felt prior or after the ceremony, he was teary eyed at our union, and that spoke to me. I was so touched by his show of emotion. 

When I was still in school, sometimes Bestema would send a meatloaf sandwich to school for me. Those were the best days ever. Having a home cooked meal can always turn a day around. I knew that lunch was packed with love and it made me smile. 

The night my father hit me, it was late at night. I threw some things in a bag and called my friend up at her house. I don't remember if I woke her parents or just disrupted their nightly routine, but within 10 minutes they were at my house ready to pick me up. The story wasn't important. All I needed to say was that I needed them to come get me, and they were off. The love that family kept in their hearts for me changed me. I really grew so much inside the walls of their house and to this day I am grateful for their presence in my life. 

I wrote a poem once that was incredibly dark and set off a lot of red flags. My friend was very brave and shared it with our teacher. I was angry at the time, but ultimately it lead to me getting the help I needed to heal a lot of old wounds. I don't know that I ever backed away from my anger and fear long enough to thank her. The love she had for me was so much that she was willing to chance our friendship. We were young at the time and I can't imagine how she must have felt, but that one act turned things around for me. 

My parents were not able to attend my wedding. This is something I think about often, and is the only thing I would ever change about the ceremony. When I came back home from the trip, my step father was upset with me. I remember him not really wanting to speak to me and when he did, it was clear he was angry. It seems contradicting, but the depth of his pain was so touching to me. He loved me so much that it hurt for him to not give me away at my wedding. It still bring me to tears thinking that I got married not knowing it would matter to him at all. For Christmas I made a large wedding photo album for him to try and share the beauty of the day with him. I hope that it was at least a fraction of the thanks he deserves for raising me. I have been grateful for him and loved him for many years, but that moment was the most tender of all. It really broke my heart to see through his pain and into how much he cared for me. 

These are just a few of the times that people in my life made their actions speak volumes for me. They have taken every opportunity to show their love over the years and I hope they know that I will always be grateful. I could never write down every time someone went out of their way to care for me, but I hold onto those memories tightly and try to put the same amount of love back into the World. I hope that I am able to show everyone how special they are to me, even if I fail with words. Above all, I fight to remember that I deserve this love. Try not to let these special moments slip through your fingers. Recognize when they happen and focus on those moments with all your might. Retain that feeling, that warmth, and go back to it on your bitter days. No matter how alone you may feel, there is love in the World for you. Never let yourself believe otherwise.