So, today's session deals with image (warning...this one may be lengthy).
Last night I posted pictures of myself and all night, I dealt with the regret of doing so. In fact, today, I logged on several times to delete said photos from the post. Why? Because I've got some real issues with my self image. (Blah, blah, blah...it's been said before, I know.)
It's not a new story. Other women have dealt with the same shit I have. It's really all fairly simple. My father was (is) a prick. Nothing was ever good enough for him. Not my mother, not my stepmother and none of the numerous women in his life since. None of his four children could ever be perfect enough for him, but I got special treatment as the "smartest" of his biological spawn. There were great expectations for me and I jumped through flaming hoops to make daddy happy...which never happened.
I married a man just like him. Then married another man just like him, whom I thought was different because he wasn't like the first man I married. The common denominator there was the "selfish asshole" factor, but it would take me a while (and the help of a Saint) to understand. In the meantime, I also dealt with being a victim-of sexual molestation and assault, of adultery, of mental & physical abuse, of severe depression and attempted suicide.
Ain't that a bitch?
Somehow, some fucking way, I'm still here. I'm one of the very (well aware) lucky ones. I'm so thankful for what I have, but I still have some shit to work through.
I don't look in the mirror and see the resemblance to Julia Roberts (???? really???? LOL!) or a pretty person at all. I see every fault imaginable and wonder, when Saint Jason will see it too. And it scares me.
My living room walls are filled with photos of my children; literally dozens of pictures of all four of them throughout the past fourteen years of their lives.
(The Wall of Fame-this is just one wall)
You won't find very many pictures of me, though. I don't like to be in pictures. I hate, literally hate, seeing myself. Except when I'm with my kids.
(These are the first of four snapshots of me with each of my kids. The top is me with my oldest son, Josh. He is almost 14. The next one is me with my Cale, who will be 12 in a few short months.)
(Then we have me with Princess Elena...she will be 7 in nine short days. And then my baby; little man Ian...he's 3.)
What you might notice in all of these, is that none of them, not one, shows my body. This is an issue for me. There was a statement made to me once (that I have forgiven, but never forgotten):
"Maybe if you lost 40 pounds, I wouldn't have to go to a strip club to get excited."
For someone already carrying a lot of scars...this one statement cut deeper than I could possibly explain. Again...FORGIVEN.
It was not the comment that crushed my self esteem into the ground. Not the statement that destroyed me forever. Just another reminder that my 5'2" body isn't model perfect. And not to be graphic or share TMI, but every now and then, when I'm with Jason...I think about these things.
I remembered today about an article I saw last year...it was an article in Glamour magazine that featured plus sized models in a nude photo shoot. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. So today I Googled it and found the image again.
This is me.
Ok, so maybe not quite so "luxurious long locks of hair" or "smooth skin" and "clean shaven" (because I'm sorry, but that shit takes time and money that this bitch doesn't have. Come on, you didn't really think I'd make it through the entire post without profanity, did you?)
Anyway...see the model on the bottom row-right? See how her boob sort of sags a bit? So do mine. 38-DDD. That's me. Not perky at all anymore. And stretch marks galore. And see the creases and rolls on the one on the bottom left??? Yep, I have those too. Not to mention a hip to hip scar from the 3 c-sections I've had. I will never have a six pack...ever. NEVER.
I have stretch marks so bad that I look like a mountain lion has had his way with me.
But here is what I know for sure (and God help me if my mother picks this post to show my grandfather how great a writer I am, because he's going to drop dead right now)...Jason thinks I'm sexy.
I know this; am positively convinced of it, not by what he says, but by the way he looks at me when I'm with him. (*WARNING--TMI COMING!) I can see it in his eyes when we are in the middle of having sex, because he never takes his eyes off of me. He thinks I am beautiful. He thinks I am hot. He thinks I am amazing and wonderful and perfect.
I don't get it. I don't understand it and I am still trying to see what he sees, but I trust him with everything I am...that means I believe that he is not some certifiable nut job who's lost his fucking mind and eye sight.
So, there you go. How about tomorrow, we stick with something simple...like landscaping?
p.s. If you want to read a simply bitchy rant by me...just go here. It's much douchyer (my word, don't fuck with me) and lighter reading.
8 comments:
There is something to be said about people who are willing to stand on a stage in front of people they do not know or will likely never meet, and say to them the things you have said here.
It is sad. It is helpless. It is pathetic. It is tragic. It is desirable. It is flawed. It is honest. It is raw. It is painful and beautiful all at once. It is the kind of being that goes beyond the flesh, some people may see as ugly, when others like Saint Jason and myself see the real sex appeal masqarading behind the rolls and scars and sagging triple D's. (which I have to take your word on.)
What you have done with yourself, and this is based on a very small window I have gazed through in all of my voyeristic nosing around, is fall victim to things not in your control that left such a gaping hole in your soul that you did such a ridiculous thing like try and remove yourself from this world.
And in your failed attempt you did a very selfish thing, by attempting to take away one of the better spirits this fucked up world has to offer. Luckily this was not the case and you have overcome the demons and the fuckheads who brought you to such a low and shame on them for trying to scar someone who has so much to offer.
Not as a mother, or a girlfriend, or good follower of Atypical Reads, but as a well rounded human being who did not ask for the shit thrown at you, and yet managed to come out on top...of Saint Jason as it were.
Futhermore, maybe, just maybe, had this slimeball who told you "Maybe if you lost 40 pounds, I wouldn't have to go to a strip club to get excited." MAYBE had he done his job as a man and kept your interest in him, MAYBE, you would not have had to seek out happiness in whatever vice put the weight on you to begin with. So fuck the prick.
Anyone who hangs out willingly handing bitches their money just to nut themselves and go home with an empty wallet and blue balls has some issues they need to work out anyway.
And yes, Julia Roberts. At least in the pic you had up. And I do not see a porblem...or even a problem with the face in any of the pictures you have here. As for the mind that cannot wrap itself around Saint Jason's affection for you.
Your personality is infectious and your words, though battered with self confidence issues and explitives is not a flaw in your character, but an extension of the lovely embattled soul inside you. You cannot explain that which is not a problem, it's like trying to figure out how you get the creme inside those killer fucking Lindts chocolates. Shut the fuck up and just eat them.
Good god I have went on a tangent. I'm leaving.
First off Missy, let me get something straight here...I AM NOT SICK!! I AM A VERY HEALTHY, VOYEURISTIC FUCK...REMEMBER THAT.. OK!! (;
Im not sure I can top what Scott just wrote in his POST..uh, comment. MY words exactly, thank you Scott for helping me find all the words for my comment tonight!!!
Brandi, always remember that true beauty comes from inside,(i know, broken record) not outside and Saint Jason knows that, so when he is making love to you and can't take his eyes off of you or your body, he is seeing beyond and through all of your so called imperfections. WHAT IMPERFECTIONS, you have skin, lips, boobs (big-uns at that)anatomically correct female parts (won't go there) everything that everyone else should have, so whats the big deal? You have what all the plastic, self-centered, egotistic BARBIES out there don't... Personality, brains and a heart of gold!! Obviously Saint Jason knows exactly what he wants and its YOU, not BARBIE.
My husband Les is the male version of you with your body issues, but just like Saint Jason in the way he thinks about me. He was beaten down by two BITCHES, who didn't appreciate a damn thing he did for them. They both were CALIFORNIA BARBIES, who took him for everything they could get when they filed for divorce!! When we met 13yrs ago i was a newly divorced Kansas hillbilly, who had never in my life lived in a big city and had just moved to Ca!! I told him on our very first date that this is me, plain jane, who prefers McDonalds over some fancy restaurant, fruit of the loom cotton underwear, shopping for all my clothing at the Goodwill, I don't like jewelry, don't like flower bouquets, don't get fake nails or pedicures, prefer hair coloring from a box and if you don't like what you see, then Thank you, I had a nice time and I will see you around. I also told him my deepest and only insecurity, I have dentures...I didn't tell him this so he could go home and fantasize about... well(we won't go there). MY point is I WAS NOT and still aint PERFECT. Long story short, my wedding ring was bought for 75% off at the local Mervyns. I may be cheap, but he loves me for who I am and not how I look, and I have taught him the true meaning of love just like Saint Jason is trying to teach you.
Dammit Brandi, this is the second time today you have made me CRY..goddamn fuckin PMS shit, I am soo ready for the big M...MEN-o-PAUSE. ha ha ha
GIMME A HUG...LOVE YA BRANDI
p.s.
(LISTEN TO SAINT JASON, HE KNOWS THE REAL YOU, the one that you can't see)
Dammit, that wasn't suppose to happen, I nodded off at the end and hit the button twice, sorry sweetie, wont happen again!!
Scott...thank you. Nothing else witty to say, just thanks.
Wanda...sorry love. Didn't mean to make you cry, I promise. But I'm glad you're here with me. No worries on the nodding off--I took care of that for ya. ;-)
Love you too.
Okay...Me too. I mean I ain't hating on myself to your extent at this point but when I take 56 photos of me and go back to review them and find out only one of them doesn't invoke barf I get it.
I too have mountain lion scars.
I think my neck is starting to wrinkle, and those goddamnned basset hound jaws are a killer!
But you know what? I make myself feel better by going out and looking around at some of the other ladies. You can always find at least one other lady who is worse.
Ok... I too am a HEALTHY VOYEURISTIC FUCK! (I actually had to scroll back up to see how that second word was spelled cause I wasn't sure! I DO know what it means though! ANYWAY...
Our lives are freakishly identical. I do not have the same amoung of children but, I do have the same shenanigans. Same weight issues, same image issues, same self esteem issues...or libraries...whatever. I am TOTALLY living viariously through you. You are my voice. My inspiration. My champion. I love YOU.
p.s.
sorry if that sounds stalkerific. I am not going to wear your skin suit one day or anything!
p.p.s
the word verification for me to post this comment is...and I shit you not...
DOUSC... what the ayeff?
p.p.p.s
I know it's missing some letters but ya get me!
It's amazing how comments get so stuck in our heads isn't it? Reading this brought back one of my own memmories. I was in a dressing room trying on wedding gowns. I've got a rather large rack of my own with dd's and was having trouble finding just the right dress to make them look their best without making the rest of my body look like a tent. The sales lady came over and said " Have you thought about losing 20 or30 lbs? Dresses like this look so different when you just lose a little bit." It was everything I had not to put that 30lbs behind a punch into her 100 lb maybe an a cup nose. Needless to say I did not buy my dress there and left directly after her comment letting her know what I thought of her. It's amazing some of the dumbass comments that come out of people's mouths. I'm also one of the lucky ones who has a man who seems to see beyond my twin induced stretch marks and love handles. Yay for men who see the whole picture, and yay for us Voyeurs too! :) Thanks for posting.
Raquel, Jen & Cotton...you guys are awesome, truly.
You make writing one of the best parts of my day. Mainly because the stuffed animals suck at the word verifications & therefore can't make comments! :D
Post a Comment