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On Fat, Friendship & Flipping the Bird

laughing on the insideThe other day a friend of mine said something friends are not supposed to say;

“You know that picture you posted of yourself? You looked horrid, and fat and old.”

Thanks.

Like I didn’t already feel that way underneath the smile we’re all supposed to wear every day.  I mean really, who the hell thinks that’s ever ok to say? It’s not. It’s mean, and it lacks basic goodness.

“Let’s go for a walk, and do you have time to pop into the store with me.” Now there’s a healthy response to a friend who is stressed to the point her body is showing it.

I want to lay in bed and cover up my head and cry today….all day. But instead, I will put on my suit (that’s way too tight now), and head in to the office to compassionately take on the world’s grief. And therein lies the problem, doesn’t it ladies? It’s the expectation that we will care for everything and everyone, and whatever shitty chores no one else wants to do.

Here’s a newsflash; each day only has 24 hours in it, even for women.

dream bigLately, despite being fatter than ever, and pinched for time, I’ve been really satisfied with my accomplishments. My resolution this year was to complete a course that could actually help me achieve some financial freedom. And I did it!  I did it while working full-time, managing a relationship, keeping house, and moving my son back from his first year in university. I was feeling pretty happy with myself….and then someone felt the need to let me know I was ugly, another to remind me that I don’t make enough money, and perhaps I don’t look after every-single-fucking-person-animal-and-thing-in-my-life to their liking.

With friends like this, really, who needs enemies ladies?

So it’s on these days when we don’t want to face the world, when the self-esteem that we usually have without thinking about it makes a ragged and surrendered appearance, that we need to dig deep and look at what is important to us, not someone out there marking us like a french judge at a figure skating competition.

So today, after I’m finished with a good cry and a have plastered on my professional face, you can count on my doing two things; giving those negative assholes the finger and getting on with the things in my life that make me happy.

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Give Them the Leftovers

the sunThe headline on my yahoo homepage today was about Selena Gomez, the pop-star turned kidney transplant recipient, and the trolls who were criticizing her body. After experiencing the limits of her mortality, I’m sure the woman really doesn’t give a shit about critics of her amazing body.

Whether you’re Selena Gomez, or an average gal just trying to make a living, there will always be critics, people who intentionally try to make life harder for you. These folks are known as; assholes.

Delve into any type of spirituality that gets you through the day. There are a million pithy sayings that we can pull out of the air to set us on our own determined path to success (whatever that means in the moment);

Be kind to those who are unkind as they need it the most

An eye for an eye.

Give thanks to all of those people who were challenging as they were your greatest teachers.

Or, as I’ve come to realize with my more limited middle-aged energy; fuck’em.

Seriously, leave them to live as they are; miserable, petty and when you have enough energy leftover from loving your wonderful, healing, and healthy self, pass the love along to them.

If, like me, your life has finally come in for a landing and isn’t one survival worry after the next, give yourself all the love you can. Give the haters the leftovers.

 

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How To Not Suck At Anything

scream nowFirst, just admit that you do, indeed, suck.

Whether you look at the stats, or sit at home wondering where your prince charming is, or continuously hear your teenager’s door slam. Sometimes you just can’t get it right.

Sometimes the key to not sucking is to admit defeat.

Sorta.

Do not admit defeat and then drown yourself in Kit-Kat bars, Fruli Strawberry Beer and fashion magazines. You know, if that’s your sort of thing.

Admit almost defeat. And by almost, I mean hang on and be tenacious with one hand, and ask for help with the other.

Yes, it’s a fine balance my dear ones.

Admit you’ve reached your limit, and then let someone else’s experience, imagination and fresh perspective inspire you.

It’s very difficult to do. I know that, because I’ve recently just had to do that. And it sucked. Hard.

I am very much a type ‘A’ person, a get out and get it done kinda gal.  I have a quiet competitive nature, and when I don’t excel at something, it eats me up inside.

Recently I had to make a very difficult decision. Part of making the decision that I did, involved knowing that I needed help to achieve what I wanted, and what I know that I can.

So, I shall enjoy my white wine spritzers when I come home and close the door on my work day. I will meditate, nurture my body with healthy food, and my mind with positive affirmations.

Hopefully a month from now, having eaten my pride, I will not suck….as much, and I’ll be closer to accepting that I’m far from perfect.

Pour a glass of your best therapist, and listen to a little Frankie Miller…you’re not alone in your ‘sucking at some things’…we all suck sometimes. But you’re going to be ok kid…

 

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Letting Yourself Go

"Much of your pain is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self." ~Khalil Gibran~
“Much of your pain is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.”
~Khalil Gibran~

Sometimes just letting things go is therapeutic. Some call that kind of letting go ‘surrender’.

That’s not the kind of ‘letting go’ I’m talking about though.

No darlings. I’m talking about letting yourself go, as in go to hell. Not in a ‘handbasket’, for doing something devilishly delightful and hedonistic, but letting your beauty go the way of polyester leisure suits and leg warmers.

Two days ago,  at what I hope to be the beginning of the end of a bout of some weird viral infection/allergic reaction combo, I worked up enough nerve to give myself a little kick in my ample ass.

Since I’ve become way more selective about the company I keep…in the nude, I’ve kinda let my body go the way of the dull housewife.

My previous philosophy of keep it in shape in case the opportunity arises (and it did many, many times), eroded into; if you’re worth gentlemen, it I’ll wax it. Which, of course does not radiate the sexy aura of the wanton-duchess-of- sex that I’m going for.

Not being able to see my own bikini line over my boobs also makes it easy to let things go a bit. Don’t get me wrong, I still go to see my aesthetician, just not as frequently. This is the same one who offered to wax my nostrils (I’m not kidding).

In retrospect, I believe that’s what set off my denial of all things carnally delightful. Stretched out with only my sweater, undies and socks on the waxing bed, I had visions of how I looked with my pale thighs exposed under the harsh waxing light, and racing  thoughts of the much-younger date I was scheduled to entertain that evening, crawling on top of my  fleshy mound of deliciousness, looking up my nostril and losing his erection because I had some abnormal nostril hair happening.

I took her up on the nostril waxing (doesn’t hurt like you think it would, and she did if for free), and then stood the poor kid up, leaving him high and dry with no good lovin’s from yours truly. I stayed in and drowned my old, naked, hairless-nostirled self in wine.

The next day after I read his rather harsh email, I knew I deserved it. It’s just poor form to stand someone up because of your own insecurity.

That was the beginning of letting myself go.

It’s no reason to despair or send your recommendations of good self-esteem programs though sweeties. I did eventually end up  having a lovely date with the young gentleman.

At this age and stage, I’ve had the good fortune of good company from a good number of good men. Men of my vintage however are all married with children, or just beginning divorce proceedings, a nastiness that I will never expose myself to. In other words, I have a grand selection of much older, and much younger men.

That’s not a terrible predicament. It’s just that much older men all seem to need some assistance with their less enthusiastic erections, and the much younger men all hump like bi-polar jack-rabbits in a manic state (In all fairness, much older men know how to go about romance and much younger men are eager to please and entertaining).

Needless to say, it’s a rare shag that inspires the effort for properly scaped pubic hair and firm thighs.

But two days ago, I had a good hard conversation with myself. I knew it was going to be tough, so I sat myself down in a candlelit bubble bath with a little Marc Cohen playing, a platter of chocolate dipped strawberries and a glass a bottle of champagne.

Mid-winter depression and lack of joy in daily activities makes for the perfect storm of self-doubt and negative self-talk. It was time for me to have a firm but gentle, loving chat with my worn out self.

I have finally let myself go enough to upset myself, to want to repair the damage done, and to want to like crawling into bed with my own body at the end of the day.

That’s what matters after all, isn’t it ladies? How we feel about ourselves makes our days good ones or bad ones.

Any woman can find a man eager to have his deliciously perfect man- bits cuddled, but it’s a rare woman who loves herself enough to dig out of mid-winter depression in order to nurture her own self.

Go ahead, wax it, pluck it, trim it and firm it up ladies….if you build it, they will come.

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Santa Baby, I Feel Pretty…

toesinbathThe wild and wonderful Mae West once said, “Cultivate your curves – they may be dangerous but they won’t be avoided“.

God bless Mae West!

‘Tis the season to cultivate your curves ladies.

‘Tis the season of Christmas parites, and getting cozy by the fire with the love of your life while the winter wind whips up a wonderful wonderland.

Sometimes, just like preparing for a much anticipated holiday, preparing to go out somewhere special is just as satisfying as the event itself.

Tomorrow night marks the first of four, yes, count’em, four Christmas parties that I will be attending during the next two weeks.

I’ve fluffed up my party dress, have my open-toed, black satin shoes ready by the door, and a new tube of lipstick waiting to be unleashed.

There’s nothing better than feeling pretty. Besides being intelligent, devilishly charming and totally independent of course, my wee little butter toffee puddings.

Being a strong, independent woman is the only way to go, and when you combine it with indulging in your sensuality, well, that, my darlings, is nirvana.

Instead of rushing through the holidays, take time for yourself.  If you indulge yourself in some of the pleasures of the flesh, I guarantee that your holiday season will be merry, bright, and full of possibility.

Always make time for your pedicure (mine was just finished in a lovely shade of In My Santa Suit), and for selecting just the right jewelry to accentuate your outfit, even if your outfit is jeans and a sweater.

I’ve been dutifully massaging new Peppermint Twist hand cream into my cuticles and on my hands all week.  Thanks to some really great lip balm , my lips are getting ready for what I hope to be a season of mistletoe-snog related workouts with a tall dark and handsome hottie..

Tomorrow, after work, a long, hot shower will wash away the shell of the hustle and bustle of every-day-life, and I will delight in preparing for my evening out.

Whether it’s for a night on the town like tomorrow, or a night in with your best friend and lover, take time to pamper the body that has carried you through the past year.

You may not be gracing the cover of Vogue in the near future, but your body deserves a little worshipping and loving this holiday.

Love yourself first, and the rest of the world will fall in love with you too.

 

 

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Spiritual Hip-Waders

angry_woman
angry_woman (Photo credit: Floyd Brown)

You be the judge, or perhaps maybe not.

Maybe you might like to step back, take a breath, and lend a hand instead of tearing someone down with your judgmental old self.

It’s easier said than done, right? It’s easy to be caught up in the moment and react. Yah, I get it.

Being present, being compassionate, being empathetic; None of these ways of being are actually something many of us cultivate on a day-to-day basis. You know, with other real people, not just philosophy books, or quirky memes, or when we’re in a good mood.

It’s a constant struggle for balance between keeping firm personal boundaries and benevolence.

One thing I’ve noticed throughout my life is that the folks first to judge are the least likely to actually ‘do’, least likely to stop complaining and take risks to make a difference.

In other words, they have a shallow pool of spiritual awareness and like to baptize us all with their egos instead of donning a pair of spiritual hip waders to explore the fertile, magic, muck of their own humanity.

We all fall short sometimes and we know it. Trust me kittens, the last thing anyone needs is to be kicked when they’re down. In other words, if you don’t have anything kind so say, keep your cake-hole busy biting your tongue.

Some folks need to be needed. It’s misplaced ego stroking at best, and just because you’re happy to be open to the needs of others without needing to be a martyr, don’t let their martyr mentality shadow your own strength and independence.

For anyone struggling with constant critics, poisonous environments or abusive relationships of any sort I offer you my final thoughts;

You know who you are and that your intentions are good.

You are intelligent. You are strong. You are beautiful.

If you’ve felt the snub of the judgmental, the armchair life coaches, and chronically bitchy, don’t you dare let it get to you. Remember how far you’ve come.

That is all my sweet darlings. That is all.