After almost two weeks of maniacal happiness, I have swung in to sadness. I am so tired, and it just doesn't feel like a good day. I cried on my way to work, thinking of the Orange Lover, and how much I miss him. I hate drive and crying. Then I remembered I didn't put on deodorant in my haste to get out of the house. At work the fridge holding my leftovers from yesterday's lunch was making wonky noises, and it seems the compressor has died and my lunch is warm, and probably spoiled. I only have yogurt to get me through the day. Listening to Ian McCulloch to see if that will help things.
Urban Race comrade gave me deodorant. I guess I can say that makes things a little better. Guamaniac heard my plea for help, and we are going out together after work. Please say I end up doing something totally reckless like getting shit drunk for a skool night and making out with girls. C also made me feel better for being all defensive about getting emotional over Veronica Mars and Logan. Then I made her day by saying we really are teenagers who know how to have all-balls-out fun. My friends are good people.
_______________________________________________________________
Yesterday I was really fretting about how going off birth control has really fucked with my face. It is breaking out, and I can leave the house in the morning, and then come home with two lovely shiners saying hello to everyone within a five-mile radius. I've never had perfect skin, but this is a little bit more than I want to handle right now. While feeling terrible about myself, I just happened to read Sal's repost at Already Pretty, it was exactly what I needed right then. The feeling did not last long, and here I am already in the doldrums; so, I thought it might help for me to attempt to write about myself in positive terms avoiding any negative languages and its partner in crime, qualifiers.
Ahem.
My eye color is like no other I have ever seen. They are unusual and can take some people be surprise. It happens often when someone I have known for months suddenly exclaims, "Wow, you're eyes are really green." I'm not sure what color they read from afar, but up close, they are very nice, and I am quite happy they are in my face. My eyelashes are long, and the only reason I own a lash-curler is because my naturally curled lashes will sometimes decided to curl in instead of out. That is a problem I can live with.
I enjoy my arms. They are long and slender. I can touch my elbows behind my back, and reach almost any itch. There is no flab bits between my shoulder and elbow, and that is with zero work on my part. My wrist are small and look good peeking out from the end of sweaters.
My breast are beautiful, and I enjoy holding them when I am relaxing. They are a good size for my body, and are small enough to not always have to wear a bra, but big enough to be noticeable. They don't fall in to my armpits when I am on my back, and I enjoy admiring them in the mirror when I get out of the shower.
I have a waist that many women envy. That both women and men have enjoyed encircling with loving arms. It is 24" and could probably become 21" if I chose to wear a corset (I happen to enjoy breathing more). My stomach is abnormally flat for how lazy I am. I contribute it to all my sneezing, but it can't possibly be just that. I can even see the outline of muscles under the skin. Muscles from the couch doing all the support work? What ever it is, I know it is something to be grateful for.
When ever I try on a new pair of shoes, I always check to see how my ankles look in them. I really should only wear skirts and dresses and fancy shoes. My ankles are dainty. Motherfucking dainty ankles, and I am so proud of them. They feel good in my hand between my index finger and thumb. They make me look taller and creates dramatic effect between foot and leg.
My toes are my helper-monkeys. I never have to exercise that lovely stomach of mine by bending down to pick something off the floor. My toes will do it for me with way less effort. I can pinch an ugly bruise in to a pale white thigh with my toes. My toes will rip you a new one as necessary.
Overall, I know I am attractive. I have many features to be proud of, and there is no reason to focus on my own perceived imperfections. Many areas I hate about myself, other people love and compliment me for. I need to start listening to that, especially when I am feeling fragile like today when I am not even obsessing over my body, but just feel like my body is yet another thing to add on to the pile of suckage. It feels good to sometimes to step back and be proud to compliment yourself. It is important to be happy for the good and not feel embarrassed for knowing it. I'm sure there are other parts of me that I like and forgot--I'll make an addendum if necessary.
Perhaps I will try the even harder exercise of saying what I like about myself (e.g.: my enormous capability for helping those that I love before helping myself). I probably should have done that today, but naming what I like about my body was a compromise.
To help with today's depression? Alcohol with Guamaniac. Thank you, kind friendliest gay friendly of all!
No comments:
Post a Comment