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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

 

Sorry (not sorry) about my cellulite

Here we go again. It’s ‘bikini season’. Otherwise known as, let’s shave all our nether areas and expose them to strangers while romping at the pool or beach with our kids wearing a strip of fabric to cover our butts.

I know it’s occurred to some that wearing a bikini is pretty much like wearing a bra and panties, but in public. I think I would prefer the 1920’s swim fashion of bloomers and long shirts, but that’s just me. I don’t want to feel like I’m wearing a bra and panties in public. I like coverage. Is this because I jiggle and have pooches? I don’t know. Maybe.

All winter long as I stuff myself with scones and donuts, I think of how I should be drinking green tea and sipping watercress soup if I want to look good in a swimsuit come June. And let’s be honest, I’m stuffing myself with scones and donuts, not just in the winter, but all year around. The fact that I’m NOT a size 1X is pretty much due to genetics. I have my father’s side to thank for that. Although, back to the watercress, who the hell eats watercress?

So then here comes June. Actually, here comes spring break. April. And I put the swimsuit on for the first time in months but I don’t look at myself in the mirror. I just put it on and head out to the pool with my swim cover on and sit in my chaise.  I am thinking, why didn’t I work out more? Why is there so much cellulite this year than last year? What is that weird looking vein cluster? Was that there before?

But then I look around. And not to get too uppity, but there’s a few of some other moms with cellulite too. And I start to feel better. I relax a little as I’m shoving Pop chips in my face. What’s pool time without snacks? If you don’t bring chips to a pool, you’re dead to me.

Okay, then there’s one mom. There’s always THAT mom. The really fit one with like, 4 kids, to make us feel bad. If she works out, why don’t I work out? And she’s wearing a two piece she bought from Athleta. Heck, she’s probably one of their models. And I put the Pop chips away.

I take stock in the fact that I try. I do. And even though I keep seeing magazine cover after magazine cover (Us Weekly, I’m looking at you) of “Kim’s Wedding Workout” and I’m sick of seeing it. But I have to admit that even though she’s got curves, she’s looking fine. OH WAIT! She spends thousands upon thousands of dollars zapping her cellulite in some plastic surgeon’s office.

Ha! So there you go. If I spent thousands of dollars zapping my cellulite, I’d look like Kim too. But I don’t. I put that money in a college fund. Or family vacation. Or a woman I sponsor in Rwanda. (I’m not bragging or anything.)

My point is- WE ALL HAVE CELLULITE! (Except Athleta mom. You just go back to your paddle board, lady, I’ll deal with you later.)

You have cellulite. And you have cellulite- and YOU and YOU and YOU!

If we surround ourselves with real women, moms and grandmoms, sisters and friends, NOT magazines, we will appreciate what we have and not worry about the extra.

And don’t get me wrong. I’m planning on working off those winter scones and donuts. But it’s not because I want to fit in a bikini. It’s because I need to climb the ladder to my son’s loft bed each night. It’s the case of wine from Costco I want to be able heave into my minivan without throwing out my back. Use it or lose it baby. And I plan on using my quads and arms for good. Not just at the pool.

Sorry, not sorry about my celllulite by Frugalista Blog