Here we go!

          Hi!  This is not really my first blog, but it is the first one I think I am going to be willing to share with other people.  The idea for this has been rolling around in my brain for a while, I just think I didn't realize it was something to write about.  It may veer off course and talk about things completely off topic, but that's okay.  The idea really hit me last night when I was watching the biggest loser and this morning when I was getting dressed.  My little boy is about to turn 18months old.  And when I was pregant with him, the day before I went into labor I weighed 199 pounds.  I am 5'7.  I didn't think I looked fat when I saw myself then, but looking back, woah.  And then, watching the Biggest Loser last night, there were people who were 200 pounds and that got me to thinking, was I that big?  I know the height is a factor, but still.  And yes, I know I was pregnant and I lost a lt of that weight quickly, but STILL.  And this morning.  UGH.  Some days I simply hate getting dressed.  When I was in High School I was about a size 9.  Which was fine with me.  I have hips, and they aren't going anywhere.  I was never bothered.  And it didn't bother me that I could wear a size 14 after I had my baby, I knew it was my hips.  My mom and I have been busting our asses running and trying to get into shape to be able to run a 10K.  I got down into a size 9.  I hadn't worn those pants in quite some time.  Well, with the holidays, and the flu, and it being freakin COLD, we fell out of the habit.  (Why is it that it's so much easier to lose a habit than to make one?  It's not fair.) And I tried to put on my jeans this morning.... no go.  I was BUMMED.  I know my thighs are a bit big, not huge, but you know, I have thighs.  And that's okay.  But it's really frustrating when I can fit in the waist of pants, but not th legs.  Anyway, this was not the issue.  I was putting weight back on.  I went to inspect my jelly fat in the mirror (as we all do).  I have been trying to get back into the habit of sucking my stomach in at all times.  I used to do it in high school and stopped when I got pregnant because I wanted everyone to see my belly.  Well, now I need to get back into THAT habit.  When mom and I were running, I couldn't push my belly out too far, and now, EW.
         I am so disappointed in myself.  I feel like I am back tracking so quickly and it SUCKS.  So, I went and found my "mom jeans" which hit me around my belly button.  They have the "slimming effect" in them.  Which is great, but I HATE that I have to wear them.  And I even had a bit of an issue getting them on!!  Some days I can see why people would become anorexic.  So I pinch and I poke and pull and shake at my fat.  And it's gross.  And I hate it.
        Now.  The American Dream.  Why is it that women seem to think we have to be a certain size in order to be beautiful?  Why do we think we have to weigh the same as a paper bag in order to be attractive?  My husband tells me all the time how sexy he thinks I am, and I blow him off.  He couldn't think THIS *grabbing the fat roll* is sexy.  EW!  Yeah right!  Why do we all feel this way?  I know, I know, not everyone feels like that.  There are some women who feel beautiful and sexy and gorgeous all the time.  But I think a lot of that is for show.  I can talk the talk to.  I can tell you how women are supposed to be soft curvy and a place to grow babies.  But in the end, I want the flat belly too.  Why do we pick ourselves apart?  Men feel lucky to be in the room with a naked woman, cellulite and all.  There are just a few, the exceptions, not the rule, who think women should be sculpted statues.  And those men are bastards. 
      I like my ears.  I love them.  A lot of people hate their ears.  They stick out, they are big, they are small.  Whatever.  But I love mine.  I think they are cute.
      I like my eyes.  I wish they were bluer, one of those extraordinary colors, but I like them like they are.  And they have good shape.
      I like the skin on my face.  I am good to it, and it is good to me.  I wasn't plagued with acne in school.
      I like my freckles.  I think they are cute and I have never understood why some people cover them up.
      I love my hair.  It used to be really long.  REALLY.  My hair was down to my butt.  And it was lovely.  I used to hate it, but when I got into high school it changed (my hair, I don't know why) and I loved it.  And then I wacked it all off when I was a senior. And it has just gotten shorter and shorter.  And I love it.  It's fun.  I can't just throw in into a pony tail, I have to DO it. 
Do I think I am pretty?  Meh.  Sometimes.
     I hate:  my neck, my arms, my boobs, my tummy, my thighs, my spider veins, my hips, my legs, my feet. 
What is wrong with us?  Look at European women?  What are we as American's doing wrong?  I'll tell you what.  We have people like Kate Moss as "role models",  These teeny tiny sticks that have no body.  Men don't think they are attractive... well, I am sure SOME men do, but not most.
So why can't we be comftorable with who we are?  Why can't we say
                    "TO HELL WITH YOU, VOGUE MAGAZINE!  I HAVE HIPS.  I HAVE
                     THIGHS.  I HAVE CURVES AND I LOVE THEM.  SO UP YOURS
                     WITH YOUR TWIG-ISH MODELS AND THEIR DOUBLE ZERO JEANS!"



       Do I have anything against women who have the body I would like to have?  NO.  Am I jealous?  Sure.  Do I stare at them and disect how much better I would look with her thighs, her flat tummy?  Absolutely. 
      I am not saying I don't want to get in shape.  Because I do.  But I want to do it for ME.  No one else.  ME and my self confidence.  I want to know that it's okay for me to have a little pooch.  That doesn't make me unattractive.  But working in the school system, it gets hard.  These boys, and I know, I know, they are stupid and what they think doesn't matter, but these boys have this ideal set in their minds that women should look like... Lindsay Lohan.  I was asked several times if I was pregnant after I gave birth, where I proceeded in ripping this young man a new one.  I was so mad at him for thinking I was supposed to get back down to my previous size in a few months.  ACK.
I was told by a co-worker that she didn't feel comftorable with herself and who she was, how she looks, until she hit her forties.  WHAT?  Why does it have to take half of your life to love yourself?  So, this blog will also be my effort to love myself, for who I am, how I look.
A local calligrapher comes into our classroom to teach our men how to write cursive.  He said something today that I loved.

"When you look in nature, the things that are beautiful are made up of CURVES."
Hell Yeah Nick.