It’s Better, It’s Worse… It’s Both

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I joined Oprah’s Lifeclass a few weeks ago and I have to say… I love it.  I am about ten classes in and am learning a lot about myself by answering thought-provoking questions that only I can see the answers to.  There is also a Daily Life Question that we have the option of answering.  It is linked to the users Twitter account.

As I read some of the answers (a lot of them anonymous) I shuddered at some of the things a lot of people have been through usually in great part by their parents.  I saw remnants of abuse, both physical and sexual, mental anguish, alcoholism, abandonment… 😦

It just got me thinking.. like.. what the hell do I have to bitch about?  Ok, yeah.. my childhood wasn’t the greatest.. I have always been socially awkward and put a lot of my worth on my physical beauty (but am too lazy to do any upkeep on it).  I tend to talk way too much when I get nervous and yes.. I am an alcoholic.

BUT – I am sober!  I AM beautiful!  I grew up poor.. but I have character.  I have small boobs.. but I have a great butt!  I can be very indecisive, but when I know what I want.. no one is stopping me.

It is so important for me (and you!) to look at the silver lining in the dark, looming clouds that hover over our heads from time to time.

We have all been through our own share of hell.  I remember years of self-pity, beating my head against the wall as I cursed and screamed “WHY ME?!”

Well, why not me?  Bad things have happened to me because I have the ability to help others.  If all I can do is take my experiences and share them with another, then whatever I have been through is not in vain.

Whatever doesn’t kill you – makes you stronger. 

What experiences have made you stronger?

Putting Some Clothes On

I was walking into the bank yesterday in my leggings and long form fitting sweater. The leggings were black.  The sweater gray with black horizontal stripes; black belt and black flats accessorizing my look.  My butt and boobs were tucked away.

This gentlemen – I use the term loosely – passed me and was looking at me oddly.  He then says, “Wow.  Look at that outfit.  Look at that outfit.”  Since I was having a less than secure day I kind of freaked out inside. What does that mean?  Do I look bad?  Do I look good?  Is my look mediocre?  Have you looked in the mirror lately pal? It seemed as though he had more to say, but before he could utter another word from his seemingly seedy lips, I ducked into the vestibule.

The rest of the day entailed me telling everyone who would listen about my momentary encounter with the stranger.  I suppose I was looking for validation.  I desperately needed someone to say, “your outfit is awesome! Nice! Super! ”

This was not the first time I have been in the presence of someone who thought it was necessary to let me know his or her feelings (which he didn’t really – he left it open to interpretation) about something that was really none of their business.

But maybe we need more of this.  I mean, have you looked around lately?

Men in muscle shirts two sizes too small with very little muscle, women wearing clothes that leave nothing to the imagination and on some of these women imagination is needed.

I’ll admit it.  When I was 20, 25, 30 and even 35 I walked around showing off as much of me as I possibly could.  I had a great belly at one time and every chance I got, out came the midriff.  I’d be at the bar or even the local corner store and I would get hit on or whistled at.  After this came my incensement as to why no one took me seriously and why guys only just wanted to have sex with me.

Really? It took me all those years to finally get it.  To get why the girls at the bar in the jeans and baggy t-shirts had boyfriends or husbands.  To get why there never was a phone call the next day, or week or month for that matter, after having sex with someone less than twenty four hours after meeting.

I was nothing more than eye candy.  If I had sex with you, then I was eye candy with the prize inside.  But all in all, just something nice to look at. Like that freaky shirt in the window that looks awesome with it’s shiny studs and peacock colors, but the beige shirt is more practical and so that is the one we buy.

I can still wear clothes like that but I don’t want to.  I realized that dressing like I am ready for my meeting at the local street corner still left me empty inside when I went home.

Men still check me out, and yeah, that feels nice sometimes.  But men also take me seriously.  More importantly, women take me seriously.  I never had female friends in my twenties and early thirties.  I thought it was because they were all bitches.  Then I thought it was because I was unlikable.  After I started putting some clothes on, I realized it was probably because I was unapproachable.