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My Perfect Body

Frugalista Blog My Perfect Body

Here I go, taking off my clothes again for my blog.

I know. But bare (bear?) with me!

We are flooded with images of amazing bodies and then even when sometimes a body is not so amazing, there’s a barrage of comments to follow that are cruel and degrading. Sometimes from ourselves, sometimes from others.

As we put ourselves more and more out there- especially in the land of YouTube and social media, the scrutiny becomes even more so. [Read more…]

I like you. Do you like you?

I have seen a lot of stuff lately on the Internet about embracing our own quirks. I have a lot of quirks to embrace, so my arms might get tired. That’s a joke.

There’s the Colbie Caillat video “Try” how she is tired of being photoshopped. Go Colbie! I love it.  Deconstructing all the fake hair, lashes, gloss and softening to show her no makeup, still beautiful self. Mostly, I love that video for the little girls in there with their makeup and their flat irons being ditched for the natural curls, young complexions and innocent faces that are more their age.  Stop trying so hard! Right?

Far be it from me to tell you to abandon your makeup or anything that makes you look different than you actually do. I like to think makeup enhances my features. When you’re blond and fair like me, you can’t see my eyes well without some liner and mascara. And I will be the first to admit, I love makeup. I love looking airbrushed and ‘perfect’. Whatever that is. I like ‘blurring’ my wrinkles, without telling someone to just squint when they look at me. I cover the redness from the Rosacea I have. I give myself a smokey eye to be alluring and so you can see me across the room, or at least that’s what I’m trying to do. I use thickening products in my hair to make it have volume, I’m constantly battling wrinkles. I’m trying pretty hard I guess.

Watching the teen girls in the Colbie Caillat video made me think of my 14 year old daughter. She’s beautiful, with milky peachy skin. Gorgeous blue eyes. And a smattering of freckles across her face.

She hates her freckles.

She spends many minutes in front of her mirror covering those freckles with BB cream and concealer. To her credit, she has lots of ‘no makeup’ days too. But she’s always hated her freckles. So when she was allowed to wear makeup, the first thing she did was cover her spots. Her freckles ruin the ‘perfect’ look. They take away the ‘airbrush’ quality she envisions for herself. I think they make her look fresh and young. She thinks she looks ‘dirty’.

She’s not the first girl to not like her freckles. I didn’t like my freckles growing up either. I especially didn’t like the ones on my upper lip that made me look like I had a mustache. Now my freckles are more like age spots, so I don’t really like them still.

I tell her that I love her freckles. She rolls her eyes at me.

Then there’s my son. My son is skinny. He hates being so skinny sometimes. I love that he’s skinny. He’s just like his dad. I tell him he can run fast and he doesn’t have to worry about his clothes getting snug on him. But kids make fun of him for being so skinny. I guess kids find anything to tease about another kid.

So what do I not like about me that other people like about me?

It’s weird to think of. My stretch marks? Hmm, I don’t think other people love those. My poochy tummy? Yeah, still haven’t heard much love for that.

I’ve always not liked my lips and my mouth. I have big lips and a big mouth. The years before ‘troutmouth’ and Real Housewives got lip implants, my lips seemed to be my downfall. I felt like they were misplaced and didn’t belong. Why couldn’t I have a sweet, delicate pucker? Why did I have to have this horse mouth?

Once I was old enough to kiss a guy with those lips, I started getting compliments on them. Huh. Apparently full lips are desirable. The teen me didn’t know this.  It was surprising to be admired for them later in my 20s. Beauty consultants behind the counter at department stores always compliment my lips when I try on lipstick, telling me I have the perfect shape. Really? I started to accept that they were part of me and I just had to make the best of them.

What made me most self conscious was starting to become my best asset.

So eventually I started to appreciate my pout. I wear lipstick in any shade I want. Once I read that full lips shouldn’t wear dark lipstick as to not bring too much attention to the mouth. Pfft to that. I will wear whatever goddamn color I feel like! Yeah, I laugh loud, and I smile big, but now I’m pretty much proud of this giant gob. Or cake hole as my dad would call it. I can fit a lot of cake in my cake hole.

What is it about yourself you don’t like? Is it your curly hair? Is it your gangly long legs? I bet if you asked someone else, they would say you have a beautiful head of thick hair, and they wish they had long legs like you.

Because the grass is always greener, right?

I hope more young girls start liking their freckles, their curly hair, their moles and skinny legs their big lips. Like Colbie says, you don’t have to try so hard.

Start liking you. You might be surprised.

I like you. Do you like you? By Frugalista Blog

 

The wind beneath my wings- RTLF #36

I’m going to get so sappy here people. Grab some tissues. I’ll be so sappy that by the time I’m done, we will be a bucket of syrup. Eh? Oh yeah!

Do you have that one person in your life that will love you and do ANYTHING for you? ANYTHING? It’s hard to know what people will do when they are tested. But my mom is the person in my life who would do whatever I needed. She would. And it’s not whatever I want- no. It’s whatever I NEED. So if it’s tough love, sweet love, bail money, whatever…. she’s there.

Please know, that my husband is A-#1 in my life. His blog post is coming later.Trust me, he’s a saint.

Some things have become apparent in my life this week. Some ‘fan hitting shit’ things apparent. No, I didn’t rob a bank. Or cheat on my McSweetie. But I might as well, because I felt like dirt. I felt like pond scum and I don’t even know why I let myself get this way.

I’ve been a crappy housekeeper and financial planner for the family. If money is the root of all evil, I let it get in my way of running my family properly. That sounds so vague and weird, but everything is fine. I will be expanding on these items soon. When I can get the words. Because I know there’s a lot of you out there who feel the same way.

If there were some Oprah ‘A-Ha’ moments, this was the week.

A-Ha #1- I let myself get in a dark place of self loathing where I only focused on my aging face, my flabby body, and my feelings of inadequacies. (Duh, I know) Stupid? Well, why do alcoholics drink? Why do Anorexics not eat? None of it makes sense. Smart people do and think dumb stuff. This I do know.

Am I surprising you? I know. Happy little, funny Frugie was down in the dumps. Was it depression? I don’t know. I don’t have a professional opinion of what all this is. I just know I was destructive in my self-talk.

A-Ha #2- I married the best man on earth. He’s smart, patient, understanding and most of all- forgiving. And I think, gosh darn it, he loves me. He loves me so much he puts up with my fuck-ups, my female hormonal break-downs, and my prison pajamas. No, not an orange jumpsuit – gray sweat shorts and a gray t-shirt. Ala Target, it’s most unflattering.

A-Ha #3- My mom is the most selfless, giving, wise woman on the planet. Some of you already know this. I know this. But even through her struggles of looking after my dad, my sister, herself, she is there for me.

How lucky am I to be the daughter of such a woman?

My dad is recovering nicely after his broken hip. She will have her own health issues to deal with soon. And my sister is a disabled adult living at home. She takes care of all of them. The last few months have been a trial for sure. But she’s getting through it. We both are.

The woman is freakin’ Mother Teresa!

If I text her, call her, email her, with my woes- she lends an ear. Always.

Does she tell me straight to my face what I don’t want to hear sometimes? Yes. Does she still have the look in her eyes and that pursed mouth of when I was ten and I sassed her or something? Yes! The look. One look from mom and you knew! Oh, you knew!

She always reminds me of my gifts and my talents. She builds me up so I can go back to my job of mothering, wife-ing, volunteering, blogging… whatever.

I want to do so much for her. Because I know she’s tired. She’s worn out. But life keeps chucking shit our way, and then I need her too. So she gives and she gives. I’m still the daughter. I might be 40 years old. But I still need my mom.

And thank God she is there for me.

Are we sappy yet? Have we made syrup? I’m starting to cry in tissues again, so I’ll stop here.

There’s more where this story came from.

I’m fine. Really. And everything is great. I’m full of blessings and gifts I can’t take for granted. My mom helped me get there this week. She did. She is the wind beneath my wings.

<tissue please>

 

 

 

We’re all just crazy, fat Americans…that need bibles.

Oh, just pipe down! I’m not calling you fat. And not all Americans are fat. Yet.

But by judging the display at Barnes & Noble, the commercials on TV and the headlines on the health magazines for women AND men; we are all fat and in need of ‘sexy, slim thighs’, or ‘detoxing’, or getting the ‘skinny girl’s bible’. And don’t even get me started with all those damn resolutions people are making out there to lose weight or the ads that tell us we should. Yes, I posted about exercising my ass off recently. But I also explained the personal benefits to this besides fitting into my jeans. Snap.

Well if this is THE break up bible, forget the other books on the subject!

oh looky here- ANOTHER Bible

Let’s slow down. Okay, for starters there’s only one Bible.  Does everyone from Suzanne Somers to Christina Ferrera have to have their diet book with “bible” in the title?

Also, those ‘5 moves to sexier, skinnier thighs’ never work. Why? Because I only do them twice that week. And then I lose the magazine under a pile of laundry and start PMSing and don’t feel like working out.

And, while I’m on the subject- does Marie Osmond get Botox all over her face and IN her mouth as well? She does the ads for Nutrisystem and she looks weird. Her mouth doesn’t move. Well, it does. But like Guy Smiley on Sesame Street. Only the bottom half moves like a muppet. I like Marie. I don’t like her dolls though. I’m glad she’s skinny. I just wish her mouth moved like a human’s.

Guy Smiley from Sesame Street. Maybe he's had botox.

That looks TOTALLY natural.

Marie Osmond Doll. Probably has had botox.

Now Janet Jackson is doing Nutrisystem too. I thought with all her dancing she was skinny. Emma sees the commercial and says. “Mom, that’s creepy. Isn’t she Michael Jackson’s wife, but she looks just like him.”

Apparently, I need to teach Emma some Janet, (Miss Jackson to her) songs and stuff.

When I put a search in on the Barnes & Noble site for ‘celebrity diet books’, for some reason the Masturbate-athons and Wanks Weeks book came up. I’ll have to check that out later for my next blog post….

Back to Suzanne Somers. Only in America can Chrissy from Three’s Company publish a dozen books on how to stay sexy, cancer free, menopause free, and skinny after 40. If based on the number of books she’s published, she is the world’s most renowned expert on being sexy, fabulous, sugar free and thin forever. For sure.

Stop the presses- this is the end all of sexy recipe Bibles!

I can understand all the variety of diet books, cook books and self help books. We are the land of opportunity. To each his own. I mean, why not? There’s a million freakin’ bloggers out there. That’s great. Anyone can write a book. Maybe I will. I’ll call it, “The Blogging Bible”…

I admit, I am guilty of subscribing to half a dozen women’s health and beauty magazines. I think I have amnesia every time I open one. I get all excited for my new body in 30 days. The only time they work is if I’m reading them while on the elliptical.

It’s amusing to me and sometimes inspiring. I take them with a grain of salt. On the rim of my margarita glass.