it's gonna be a short one, i think, because somehow my superhuman immune system has collapsed and my awesome curvy earthshell has been cursed with bronchitis, and i'll start whining about chicken soup and being single any moment now.
(the good thing about being single is, there's no one to bitch at for not taking care of you.)
my ass.
no, really.
i only love my ass when i'm heavy.
that, or when i'm exercising so much that my ass has no choice but to become round and adorable, but let's face it, with my muscle structure, that really does mean three times a day, and i haven't had the time for that since i only had one very young child, and the serious help and support of my whole family. plus there was a whole lot of running involved then, and i've been using (extreme) knee pain as an excuse. for yeeeears.
or, when i'm pregnant, but i've never been pregnant without getting/staying fat, so i could just get adorable pregnant ass by default. plus, no more kiddies for me, three is just perfect.
genetics. my father's side of the family has predominantly flat butts. of course they all look like supermodels, so. my mother's side carries the bubblebutt gene, but (heh), based on my own observation, the dominant gene here is the flat one. out of five kids, only one of us, my lucky sister, got the bubblebutt. and, she's pregnant, so it's even more awesome. damn.
there was a moment, a few months ago, that i was in my room getting changed out of my work clothes. paused to stretch and happened to glance in the direction of the mirror. HOLY CANNOLI. (mmmmm.)
i. was. perfect. i held the pose and wished i could remember exactly, wished someone was there to see what i saw, wondered if anyone ever did see this, knew they did. there are people who go nuts over my body. no, i haven't slept with all of them. it's good to be appreciated, it's good to not always feel the need for improvement.
a big part of my life is just that. just enjoying life, living, all that it entails. i don't obsess about my size. if you don't like it, don't look, right?
vanity. it's a funny thing. too much of it, you're self-involved. not enough - is there a such thing? probably not. vanity and self-esteem are two hugely separate values. i do certainly have my moments of vanity, and i probably go over the top with it from time to time. like when i blog about my awesome fat ass? maybe.
i mentioned in my last post that i really do want to shed some poundage.
last time that happened, right after the separation, i will swear that it was because i just started accepting my body for what it was. loving it. picking out something, anything, that i enjoyed (really strong calves, for instance, or that curve of my belly just below the waist where i like to be kissed, or that no matter what size i am, i have the hourglass shape, lucky lucky girl i am).
i'm sure the correlation here is that i stopped feeding my pain, emotionally and physically. i LIKED me.
also, i was so poor by this point that groceries went mainly to the kids, i lived on a lot of smack ramen (not recommended, at ALL) and whatever fruit and veggies were cheap. cheese was a luxury, milk and peanut butter were avoided to leave more for the kids and stretch my dollar. alcohol was a thing of the past. this was a survival thing, not an anorexia thing. i didn't own a scale, my clothes just started getting bigger and bigger. being broke, i dug into older clothes, and had to alter a lot of the big ones, and being not so awesome at this, just wore a lot of saggy baggy stuff, too. this guy i started seeing (who did buy groceries from time to time, and took me out to eat a lot more than i felt comfortable with, and really did take care of me without making me feel obligated) loved big girls, and teased that if i got any skinnier, he might have to leave me.
ok, so we can't go that way again, but i feel like it's still the place to start.
now somebody get hold of andy garcia and have him come over and feed me chicken soup. none of that fat-free shit either.
*ass squeeze*
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