First off, thank you for all the wonderful comments about yesterday’s post. Many of us had a nice discussion on Facebook and I also received a couple of private messages that meant the world to me. We all have stuff that lingers from our past, and we all have different ways to cope. In high school, my coping mechanism was to be happy no matter what in public. I ignored all the ugly remarks about the size of my butt, BUT, they never went away.
“She’s so chunky, you have to eat her with a fork.”
“Chunky, chunky 2 by 4, can’t get through the kitchen door.”
I made myself believe the people who said those things to me were just ‘ribbing’ me. Like they would one of the guys. And so then, I became one of the guys. Because THAT was the safest thing to do. If you’re one of the guys, then you don’t expect to get a boyfriend. You’re not going to, anyway. Boys don’t like curvy girls. So I threw a football better than most dudes, I played all the sports and became better friends with the boys than I did with most of the girls. I also threw myself into every extracurricular activity I could, from Student Senate to Class Officer. I was the most unpopular popular kid in high school.
It’s funny, our perceptions of each other growing up. I felt like nobody knew me, like I was just so-n-so’s sidekick, I was the fat friend with a good personality, the pity date, the third wheel. So when I went to college, I still had this weird, self-perception.
But now, 30 years later, even though I fight those old feelings, I actually feel pretty fucking swell. I’ve got some amazing friends, a super amazing boyfriend and my kids–I survived high school so I could be the kind of mom I am today. And I wake up happy everyday (even when I don’t want to get out of bed because the sleep won’t leave my face!) It’s nice, this swellness I have on my inside parts.
I think that’s why I get so bent out of shape about bullying these days. And I’m not even talking about mean kids being mean. That sucks and it needs to be stopped. I’m talking about adult bullying kids but calling it ‘parenting.’ If your kid goes through life feeling worthless because you called her a whore for wearing too much makeup to a party or an inappropriate dress or you tell her girls with those size thighs can’t wear those skirts…or girls with no boobs shouldn’t put on boob dresses….then you’re being a bully. You’re not parenting, you’re shaming. My parents are amazing grandparents, but when I had the boys, I made it very clear to them… they were never to feel shame for asking questions or wearing something that looked horrible but they picked it out themselves. They were never to be called names EVER. Because shaming is not good parenting. Luckily, I broke free of that pattern, but a lot of kids grow up to be the same kind of parents… It’s not fair to their kids.
/soap box for the day
Have I shown y’all my summer look? Or what I PLAN to be my summer look?
I’m gonna rock this look all summer long, and sparkle while I’m doing it…
This picture inspired me… :
How to get a bikini body: PUT A BIKINI ON YOUR BODY. Yeah yeah, that’s actually a 2-piece not a bikini. I’m confident but not THAT confident. LOL
Anyway, y’all do something kind for yourself today. And smile. You know smiling is contagious…right?
Have I mentioned that I love you?? OOOO can I show you what suit I am getting for this summer here?? Can I post a picture on your blog?? You know I am interwebs challenged Garcia!
I’m sure you can post a link to it in the comments, silly!
and ditto on the love. Kum-bah-ya and all that shit. LOL
puff puff pass, hug, puff puff pass. IT’S A PEACE PIPE SO IT’S OKAY!
Its the second one the carabian crush
I love it! It will look fantastic on you!
Great point about the bullying parents. Parents need to watch what they say to and around their kids. They are always listening.
Thanks for sharing. Enjoy your new summer look 🙂
Thanks for stopping by, maggie! yes, parents need to watch HOW they speak TO their kids. I’m not an advocate of hiding bad language, etc, but I am a huge advocate of remembering they are fragile little people and no matter what that Sticks and Stones rhyme says, names do hurt. And they stick around for a long, long time.
Ah, Mel. I’ve missed you!
happy to be here, my friend!