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OD 1/17/09

Yesterday was my brother’s birthday. He is an aged 19 years old. I can hardly remember being 19 anymore. It feels like it was a different lifetime for a different person. I’ll be 28 this year. Almost 30. Ironically (maybe, I get confused about irony from time to time), I can’t fathom being almost 30 either. Life is weird, people. Time flies at the speed of… well, time. At the same time, the days bleed slowly and inexplicably into one another until it all feels like one excruciatingly long day.

I want you all to know that I’m writing this entry while listening to music in the best earbuds ever created. I don’t know the brand or make or whatever, but they are total sound blockers (outside sound, that is, blocking sound from the music playing device would be antithetical to their purpose…) and the sound quality is phenomenal! I have a weird collection of music that I like to jam into a one hour long playlist at a time. Currently, it has Ani DiFranco, Anna Nalick, Dropkick Murphys, Joan Jett, Little Big Town, Mike Ness, Patty Griffin, Bowling for Soup, and a few songs I don’t know the artists to (ie “Let’s Hear it for the Boy” from Footloose and a punk version of “99 Red Balloons”). It makes me happy to listen to weird combinations of music like that. It gets me running, figuratively speaking. 🙂

At any rate, I left a note on one of my favorites earlier *waves emphatically at April* that reminded me of my want/need to tell you about my New Years Resolution. I resolve to no longer hate women. And I shall elaborate (for the sake of something to write about!).

I think that women are taught, either through intent or accident, to hate each other in society. We seem to be in some form of perpetual competition. It’s beyond weird, if you make yourself sit and think about it. How often do you see a woman/girl in the mall, dressed scantily or made up or with a different hairstyle, and mock her? Make the “what a *cough*whore” comment? Or be like “Did you SEE what she’s WEARING?” Or just look at her with all the disgust you can dredge up? WHY DO WE DO THIS? Does it REALLY matter what other women are wearing? Does it REALLY matter how they look? How do WE know they aren’t the sweetest women we’ll ever have the opportunity to meet? How do WE know that they aren’t just super confident in their beauty and WHY can’t WE be proud of them, as fellow women, for overcoming the stupid societal ideals of beauty? Who CARES if her butt looks huge in those skinny jeans???? Who CARES if she’s wearing too much make up?? Who CARES if she has 16 miles of cleavage and wants to show it off?? She is (more than likely) smart enough to KNOW that people are looking at those HUGE TRACTS OF LAND and WANTS them to!! Give her props, ladies. Applaud her bravery. Embrace her ability to grasp at her sexuality! Stop freakin’ out about how other women look.

Ha. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg… I’m not in competition with these women, or any others for that matter. The most important things in my life are my husband and my children and I WILL be secure enough in their love for me to not be threatened by anyone else… especially when these women aren’t after my family anyDAMNway. It’s just retarded.

Then there’s the idea that we should be jealous, for some reason, of another woman’s features that we want and don’t have. What?!

Look, I am beautiful. Now, I’m not at a point in my life where I COMPLETELY believe that particular statement, but I WANT to believe it. I want to say it so much -to me- that I KNOW it’s true. I AM BEAUTIFUL. I am sexy and sensual and attractive and adorable (those alliterations were accidental, I swear) and lovely and soft and pretty and striking and gorgeous and interesting and ‘fine’ (remember that word… she’s so “FINE”.. LOL) and all the things that apply to amazing women. I am amazing. I don’t need to have someone else’s physical blessings b/c mine are already wonderful.

Bear with me for a moment, I’ve found something I’d like to do. I’m going to list my wonderful physical attributes, k? You don’t have read them, but I’d like to write them out so I can come back to them and say, “Oh yeah! That’s so true!” 🙂

I have gorgeous eyes. They are slightly almond shaped and fringed with dark lashes. The color is like dark chocolate with golden amber flecks that make my eyes seem to glow with an intense inner fire.

I have great cheek bones. They aren’t too pronounced, but give my face a nice oval shape with not-too-sharp lines.

I have an aristocratic nose. My father is to be thanked (no sarcasm) for this. My French and Indian heritage supplied this strong feature. But it’s not too strong for my face. I think it makes me look like one of the strong Roman women of myth.

I have lots and lots of very very thick red hair. It’s not brassy red. Its a dark strawberry blond… maybe more of a light auburn… It wonderful to have red hair. Red hair can be sensual or fun or severe or soft. It’s got to be the most versatile hair color. (of course, I may be biased!)

I have pretty feet. This one is actually hard for me to say. I dislike feet most of the time. My two big toes have been operated on thanks to severe problems (that I won’t go into detail on) as a preteen. As such, my toenails don’t grow correctly, but that’s irrelevant. My feet are long with a graceful arch. My toes are well formed and long themselves, but not monkey long!

My feet glide up into well shaped ankles. There was a time in history (not all that long ago) when the  sight of a woman’s ankle was all it took to shock a man (or anyone else in “polite” society). It was also something that was admired – the graceful turn of an ankle. I have graceful ankles.

On top of that, I have very shapely legs. My Nana graced me with this wonderful gene. My calves curve out and back into my knees beautifully. My thighs are soft and feminine.

I have strong and wide hips. Childbirth sped this along, but genetics didn’t hurt! I kind of love my hips. When I see them flare out from my waist in jeans or a great skirt or dress, I am happy. I never wanted to be slim-hipped, honestly. I knew that my personality called for “child-bearin” hips and I’ve embraced that.

I am not flat-stomached. I don’t want to be. I can’t say I’d not like to lose some weight, but I find a softly rounded belly on a woman to be sensual and beautiful and I want that.

Ok, ok, I’ll quit singing my own praises for now… I think every woman should do this, however. We need to remind ourselves that we are priceless and one of a kind. We are like a perfect [insert metaphor here] and need to know it and live it.

Well, I think I’m running out of steam. I’ve been writing for over an hour and I think my poor husband is ready to hit the hay. I don’t care to go to bed alone. He’s way less cuddly when he’s already asleep! 😉

Love you all!