LDs, if you've read here very long, you'll know that I have body issues. I'm 5'4" (marginally taller than a Hobbit--shout to Mrs Gamgee!), and at last doctor's visit (Paxil med check--it's working), I was 246 pounds.
Wait. Back up a minit...
Two hundred and forty-six pounds. I weigh approximately what a baby African Elephant weighs at birth. I'm a fucking baby elephant.
And I know what did it--mostly all the pot I smoked in college, followed by the whole pizza or an entire package of Pizza Rolls (the one that the husband and I now split one for dinner) or a bag of Doritos and a 2-litre of Mountain Dew. Combine that with not exercising like I did when I was in high school (I was a cheerleader, on the track team, and I either worked out or ran almost every day), and I tip the scales pretty heavily nowadays.
It's why I don't feel like the Sexy Time with the husband, even though he can't keep his hands off my "jiggly butt" (you'd have to see Germaine in the early versions of Foamy to understand that one) or my boobs. I can't get over the weight I've gained.
See, I'm kind of weird (no, really?). I see the size on my clothes, and it doesn't really sink in. I don't see myself as a fat girl. I still see myself at 180 pounds (of course, my head size hasn't changed, so I looked like a Tootsie Pop back then...), and it's almost crushing when I look in the mirror and don't see that same girl; that I see someone who roughly looks like a baby beluga, rolls and all. It's like I have two different personalities.
There's the lightweight Me: when she dresses in her favorite outfits, other people's tastes be damned, she is confident, powerful. I crush those who would prevent me from doing what I want underfoot.
Then there's the heavyweight Me: after a shower, trying to dry off, that just wants to puke my head off and go down that way. Of course, those of you who know me, know that I'd rather feel bad for three days (food coma or too much alcohol) than puke and feel better in fifteen minutes. So that's out.
See, I tell you all of that to tell you this:
Over the weekend, husband and I went down to the Ville of Edwards and hit up the pet shop for bunny noms, Slackers (looking for some music...no luck), and Boarders (of course, since they're going out of business, everything was at least 60% off!).
And in that lovely little, 2/3rds empty Borders, I found a cute straw purse for $10, a journal I fell in love with for $10...and a book.
Not just any book. It's by Stella Ellis.
And it's called Size Sexy: How to Look Good, Feel Good, and Be Happy--at Any Size.
Stella is a full-figured model Jean-Paul Gaultier calls his "muse." She's beautiful and sexy. And she's figured it out.
I posted a question the other day on my Facebook: "What do you define as 'sexy'?" I got eight answers. Two were from guys with "typical" guy answers--one commented that it's a "chick in a Kitana CosPlay costume" and the other simply said, "bewbs:)" I'm not going to tell them that they're wrong, because they're not. Bewbs can be sexy. So can a chick in a Kitana CosPlay costume. One guy asked if he could be co-author of this blog. :)
And then I got these answers:
"Sexy is all attitude." ~~Ryan R
"Sexy is all about how you carry yourself. It's about being comfortable and secure with your body, your sexuality, and who you are. A sexy woman does not need to flaunt herself...her sexiness speaks for itself in the way she carries and respects herself." ~~Jordan B
"'Sexiness is all in the eye of the beholder. I think it should be. Absolutely. My sex appeal, whatever it might be, isn't obvious...at least, to me.' ~Sharon Tate" ~~Sarah C
"Self-confidence = sexy." ~~Emily H
"Sexy for me is someone who is comfortable in their own skin and has a good sense of humour." ~~Carla R
"If he doesn't have a butt, he's not good looking" ~~Tabatha H's mum (she's reading over my shoulder).
All of these are what Stella talks about in this book (I've taken to carrying it in my purse, and just looking at the cover sometimes makes me feel better).
If you're uncomfortable in your own skin like I am, try it out. I'm taking bits and pieces every day of her advice.
I'm not a big makeup wearer (since I sweat...loads), I don't wear foundation or powder -- don't need it running in rivulets down my face and onto a shirt or in between Thelma and Louise. However, she did say that simply putting on lipstick can make you feel better about yourself.
And she's right--yesterday I did (but it almost wasn't worth it -- had a completely horrible day at work), and today I did (got complimented on today's shade...that I've had for 5 years or more. Yeah, I don't wear it much). I wore heeled sandals to work yesterday, and although my feet fucking hurt to high heaven by the time I got home, it did make me feel better. Today, I wore my second favorite pair of jeans (that make my butt look good...and they quit making them in my size!! *angrypanda*) and a favorite black peasant shirt and my new black sandals. I had a pretty good day today -- listened to Disney songs all. day. long. as I worked. Got loads of shit done, too!
Now, to save money to have at least eight hours at a spa, and to find someone to go with me to the Clinique counter (expensive, but I have always loved their makeup--when I wore it) to have my colours done.
Anyway, there is a point to this. I'm beginning to see that what we see in magazines and on the television isn't proportionate to the entire female population.
LDs, I'm determined to make the rest of this year the Year of the Sexy. I've set up a reminder on my iPhone for every day-- "You. Are. Beautiful. Inside and Out." pops up on my phone on my way to work and on the weekends now. Positive Affirmations are the best, aren't they?
Anyone care to join me in the Year of the Sexy?
Steph... Ms Dreamer
* disclaimer--Stella Ellis doesn't know of me or care that I bought her book. I just needed it. I'm not advertising the smoking of the pot nor am I gonna lie about doing it back then, or eating all that junk food (look where it got me). I'm laying it all out there for you. Love yous! *