Who I Am

I was planning on writing something up today but what I'm writing isn't what I intended to write. When I got on Facebook this morning, one of the first posts I saw was from You Know It Happens At Your House Too so I popped over to her page to get some background on what it was I was reading and why.

I can only call it an exercise in real self-love. Get your minds out of the gutter cuz I'm talking about verbalizing to ourselves WHY we think we are awesome, not the "self-love" your parents tell you will make you go blind.

There aren't really 'rules' to this thing; they're more like guidelines. Write an intro if you want then set a timer for five minutes and write down what you love about yourself. DO NOT PROOF-READ. DO NOT EDIT. This is supposed to be raw and uncut.

I am a young mother, sometimes struggling but mostly thriving.

I am an avid reader, writer and knitter. I think there's an old lady trapped in this youthful looking body...

I am a native Oregonian and I hear Portland calling my name.

I am open-minded and can't stand ignorance or intolerance.

I am a good friend.

I am powerful and confident.

I am beautiful, smart and witty.

I am sarcastic and snarky.

I am a believer in the power of positive thoughts and know that the key to happiness is BEING HAPPY.

I am my father's daughter. I wish he were here to see me and share all this craziness with me.

I am still grieving for him, eight years later.

I am unmarried, in a long-term committed relationship with the father of my two kids.

I am happy I am me.

This is a quick little esteem builder and I encourage anyone reading this to do one for themselves. If you do decide to make one & you'd like to share it, please feel free to post it on Oh Boys FB page.

Skin & Bones?

I'm probably going to get flack for doing this post but you know what? I DON'T CARE.


I'm pissed off.


I'm 28 years old. I have two kids, grown right in my own womb. I eat every day, like everyone else & I don't count calories or diet. I do not have an eating disorder. I don't over-exercise; I don't even EXERCISE. I eat candy, fast food and LOTS of junk food. I'm 5'10", a size 6 and right now, I probably weigh less than 120 lbs. I don't know because I don't own a scale. I hate them, just like everyone else.


Why do I point all this out? Because being skinny doesn't make me immune to self-esteem issues. Being skinny doesn't give me confidence. Especially when people turn being skinny into an insult. I can't even tell you how many times I've been told I need to "eat something" because I'm apparently starving myself to be thin. Why is it okay for ANYONE to comment on my physical appearance?? Do you assume that because I'm skinny, it's okay to tell me I "look too thin"?? I shouldn't get angry when someone tells me to "put some meat on"?? Is it really okay for you to ask if I'm "healthy", like I might have some sort of disease?


FUCK YOU.


Until I can tell you to get that double-decker cheese burger covered in mayo out of your face, YOU can shut the fuck up about how much you think I need to eat. I have mirrors; I understand I'm thin. When you constantly point it out & make it seem as if I'm insulting you just by being skinny, I want to crawl in a hole. Do I say one negative word to you about how you look? That maybe you've put on a few pounds since the last time we got together? That you look particularly old lately? No, because I'm not a rude fucking bitch.


Unlike an apparently large portion of our population, I seem to understand that everyone has issues with themselves and who the fuck am I to point out shit about someones else's appearance? That person lives with themselves every day. They look in mirrors, just like I do; they see flaws in themselves, just like I do. You might see me as thin & therefore beautiful, confident. I see myself as bony & pale, with a set of boobs that belong to a 12 year old boy. 


You may think "skinny" is a compliment but to me, it's pointing out all the flaws that make me less "womanly".


I have no boobs, very little ass and protruding hip bones that catch the edge of every surface imaginable. I have a baby face that will get me carded every time I beer or alcohol until I'm 80. I'm fuzzy like a peach and wish I could just Nair my whole entire body. I slouch to make up for being taller than the average man and will probably end up like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. I'm okay with all of this because it's me. I have no control over the body I was born into, I can't change my long legs. I can't change my blue eyes or my intense rate of metabolism. I can't change my genes. I can, however, change how I feel about the body I was given.


The confidence I have in myself doesn't come from being thin; it comes from my own struggle to find the beauty within myself. I'm not self-assured because I'm skinny; I'm self-assured because I've been through trials & tribulations and I know I can face anything this life throws at me and survive. I've learned that I'm not  perfect & I never will be, and to be happy with who I am. The fact that I am skinny, is just a part of me. I'm sure I won't always be so thin but right now, I am and I'm fine with it. 


I'm not telling YOU how you should look but I will tell you to be happy with who you are on the inside, even if you're not happy with who you are on the outside. Don't worry what other people look like. If you feel inadequate, deal with it. It's not that other person's fault. It's your own insecurities. If I could look more my age, if I could actually put on another 20 or 30 pounds, I would. I have image issues just like everyone else and your assumption that I'm without said image issues just because I'm skinny, inevitably leads you to comment on them, reinforcing the idea that I should be unhappy with my body, just because you are.

There are a million valid reasons to hate me, none of which have a thing to do with the fact that I am thin. Hate me because I vote Democrat. Hate me for being outspoken and brash or because of my views on religion. Don't hate me for being skinny. It's a petty waste of emotion that absolutely reeks of jealousy.