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28 Jan
I get it. I get that sometimes it’s really hard to stop the behavior. That sometimes, even though you know you shouldn’t do it, you still do. That sometimes, even though you’re doing so well, you can’t expect your recovery to perfect. Because thinking it will be perfect is a lie, and you’re only setting yourself up for failure. The best way to look at it, is to tell yourself “one step at a time, one foot in front of the other”. I always told myself, “there’s no going back” and it’s true, there’s no going back.

I am honestly offended. I am offended at a close minded thought that the size you are equals your beauty. I’m sorry, but skin and bones are never sexy. Yes, for a period of time… I was trying to reach someone else’s own ideals of what was beautiful. There are so many negative influences from the media, that I honestly try to stay away from. Every magazine photo of a model is Photoshopped. It’s not even real. Nothing about it is real, and everything is fake. All those clothes they’re wearing? They are pinned and tucked to show off their willowy shape. If not, I bet the clothing would look like a potato sack. I’d rather look at a potato sack than skin and bones on a model on any given day.

But the influences will kill you. Eat less. Exercise more. Restrict your calories. Skinny is beautiful. The thinner, the better. Once you are addicted to negative thinking, it’s like a drug. You crave it the more you see it. Your impact of negative thinking, your impact on your body – you may not see it right then and there, but the affect is long term. I know that if I didn’t change the way I was thinking, the way I was fueling my own body, that I was going to die. Death is not pretty. I am honestly so bothered that the idea that a size zero is beautiful but a size six is considered fat.

I am not fat. I am a woman. I have curves. I like myself the way it is. You can not try and convince me for a second that if I want someone to love me, that I need to change the way I am. If I’m not blonde, change it. If I’m not thin enough, loose twenty pounds. If I’m still not thin enough, loose another ten. You can’t tell me for a second that this will make me happy. It won’t. It will only fuel the addiction of trying to fit into someone else’s ideals of what is considered beautiful.

I remember when I wrote The Girl, the dubbed “about me” page, which was more of a backstory of who I am and why this blog was created. It serves a purpose, a healthy purpose. There is something very important that I feel it’s utterly important to reflect upon. And as for the person who started this whole “weight = happiness” controversy, it’s about time you get your head checked honey, because the way you’re headed is only into an early grave.

Instead of trying to cover up our imperfections and flaws, why not let your inner sexy shine? Everyone has their imperfections. It’s about time we celebrate our own differences instead of trying to copycat ourselves to what is considered beautiful and trendy by someone else’s standards. What makes you unique is yourself, and don’t ever let someone else’s standards determine your own inner happiness.


Pretty Little Things.

8 Dec
As an attractive, free spirited, and confident thirty something, the chances of me meeting Mr. Right out and about in everyday life is slim to none. Half the time, I’m lounging in Yoga pants, a sweatshirt and probably with minimal makeup on. Except, I’ve been attempting to find Mr. Awesome on but the experience of it, is definitely in a category of it’s own.

As a kind of social beauty experiment, I decided to create a fake account on the site, to really prove a point: pretty rules. The findings were disturbing, but I need to share. For the first few days, I let the account be picture free. I occasionally checked the account for dubbed “winks” (a notion that you like someone’s profile), except “I” hadn’t received one. Yesterday, I decided to add a model-esque photo to the add.

The response was alarming. Compared to a well written, sincere yet genuine profile of my own vs a short introduction, the fake account within a period of a day had more hits than my own. I honestly didn’t want to know the results of my beauty experiment.

Pretty rules. Ugly doesn’t. If you’re not someone with model looks, you won’t get an ounce of attention that you’re hoping for. I often play dress up and take photos when I’ve got more makeup on than during the week. I hate having the pressure to feel “hot” in a photo because that determines what kind of activity I will have.

What a shallow world we live in.

The Barbie Complex.

27 Nov
She has everything. Friends, handsome boyfriends (was Ken the only one?), a few luxurious homes, a large family, and multiple careers. Blonde hair, yet sometimes I could of swore she tried being a brunette to prove that “blondes have more fun”. Yes, she’s just plastic. But something about her being just plastic, created a new set of ideals for young girls and women all over the world to try and live up to. I idolized her. Because Barbie has everything in her life, and was close to perfection.

Realistically, Barbie does not have the perfect body. There’s something still about “thinner is better” that I can’t seem to shake from my head, because it’s so rare that I see an average sized woman, someone who isn’t a size zero, in a magazine wearing awesome everyday clothes. Clothes that don’t hang off her petite frame. Clothes that actually look good, without clipping this and that to accentuate her frame, trying to make it appear thinner than what it actually is, because in the end of our materalistic word – does thin really sell better than being just average?

Yes, I am thin. Thinner than what I should be, but I’m working on yes – gaining more weight. Do I think I fit into a world of Barbie-type ideals? No. I sometimes wonder the influence of Barbie, what that has on the wants and desires of men when it comes to their perfect girlfriend. I certainly am not a supermodel. Yes, I am blonde… but I highlight my hair. I’m athletic, yes.. I run my heart out, and I keep in shape. Physically, I won’t go into details – but I have curves. Either you love it, or hate it. Do I have many careers? No. I have one that I enjoy. Working in Education with Special Needs children is definitely an admirable career, one that I enjoy, but sometimes question my “worth” compared to other, fancier jobs – lawyers, doctors, etc. The whole, I want to call it “The Barbie Complex” makes me wonder. What type of ideals and standards do women feel forced to fit into? Ones that Barbie imposed on us as little girls, ones created by the media, or a combination of the two to fit into every man’s desire?

What Barbie lacked was a personality and character. I am almost always smiling and enjoy sharing my optimistic viewpoint with everyone I know. I appreciate a good attitude in others almost as much as I appreciate a good sense of humor. Throughout the many times I’ve played with Barbie, dressing her up in her fashionable clothes (can I just have a big income to buy awesome clothes, please?), I never got the feeling she was happy with herself.

Instead of trying to cover up our imperfections and flaws, why not let your inner sexy shine? Everyone has their imperfections. It’s about time we celebrate our own differences instead of trying to copycat ourselves to what is considered beautiful and trendy by someone else’s standards.

Love Candy.

31 Oct
I have this idea. But let me say, that I purposely put a pad of sticky notes in my handbag to spread self-reflective love. The idea itself is so back to nature, back to basics style, that I wonder why I didn’t think or start it sooner.

I’ve decided to leave love notes for myself in random places. Yes, I’m fully aware that it’s very Operation Beautiful style, but I think it provides some merit. Sometimes I really struggle to accept. I find myself trying to fit into someone else’s ideals of beauty without ever establishing my own self identity.

Being single again has been a self freeing experience. I felt so worthless and struggled to accept myself because someone else, put these insane expectations of me that were beyond ridiculous. Of course, I felt so much pressure to abide by them in fear that he’d leave me.

To keep myself healthy, I left him. It was the scariest and best decision I ever made, except he left me feeling wounded with battle scars. I’m hoping my own self reflective love notes can patch up some wounds left by his harsh words, and in truth shine.

Shine on girlfriend, shine on.

Brains and Beauty.

12 Oct
You know when you’re single and ready to mingle, but not finding that special someone yet – that the last thing you really want to hear is “you’ll meet someone when you least expect it” phrase? Please stop telling me that. It’s beyond it’s expiration date, and what surprises me the most is that I want to believe it, but I’ve figured out something huge.

He will not come approach me when I’m not wearing any makeup and in sweatpants. Let’s face it, I love my Yoga pants. After a long day of work, the automatic response is to hop into Yoga pants, throw my hair in a ponytail (maybe put on my pink Red Sox hat), wear some lipgloss and call it a day. Really, that’s the truth. Except, men are visual creatures. Am I really going to attract Mr. Right when I’m dressed down? From personal experience (when I’m hitting the bar scene which is very rare) I recieve the most attention when I have my prettifiers on, smell and look good.

If I’ll meet him when I least expect it, then of course I want to look my best. That’s where I really feel the pressure. As if I need to look my best for every occasion, even if I’m just running out to grab coffee or do errands. I’d really hate his first memory of me to be something lame like “I met you while you were in your sweatpants”. That’s not really how I want to remember things.

Actually, I’ve been conflicted with this issue. Without going into nitty gritty details, I’ve struggled with feeling pretty enough. It’s the whole self worth thing. I feel that I’m important, but it’s important that he accepts me the way I am, not for how he feels l should be. Honey, I’m not changing. Part of me thinks “screw the idea of looking good all the time” and wear those sweatpants. Mr. Right is bound to see me in sweatpants, etc but do I really want him to see me like that the first time he discovers me? First impressions count, yet I feel so conflicted and anxiety ridden about this. Yes, I want to make the best impression for him, but I don’t want to feel so out of my element that I feel “forced” to be pretty all the time to keep his attention.

He should accept me for me, even if I’m in sweatpants.

Bare Naked.

3 Oct
I used to work in and industry where pretty faces were required. You had to wear makeup, and tons of it. There were so many days where I didn’t feel like layering my makeup to achieve this standard of beauty, an image that I could easily sell the product of, and have women of all ages desire to achieve my “look” of a young face without wrinkles. Believe it or not, there are so many days where I crave to leave the house without a speck of makeup on. Oh, alright… I’ll throw on a light sweep of foundation, bronzer and lipgloss and go.

Except, I feel like I deserve a little bif of naked-ness. Therefore, every Sunday (regardless of the occasion), I’m going completely au naturel. Yes, no makeup. The only thing that I will wear on my face is skincare. When it comes to skincare, I’m a huge fan of Origins for their simplistic approach to skincare and makeup.

A few of my favorites include A Perfect World antioxidant cleanser, Starting Over moisturizer and GinZing eyecream. I gotta say, I love GinZing simply because it makes my eyes look more awake even if I didn’t get my minimum of nine hours of sleep a night.

I urge you to join me for Bare Naked Sundays. If you feel like you need something on your face, go for bronzer and lipgloss. Anything else? Nope… not today. The reason behind it is really to accept myself the way I was born. Nobody came out on their birthday with a face of makeup on. You came out as you are, without plastic surgery and layers of makeup and perfect hair.

Embrace your inner sexy and imperfect self.