Monthly Archives: December 2013
Size four? I can’t remember ever being a size four, except maybe when I was four years old! At minimum I was an eight. So why am I telling you this? Because I think women are missing the best beauty secret out there.
We can buy all the creams, gels, and weight-loss pills we want, but the one thing that will truly work is to change the way we look at ourselves.
You’ve seen those pictures on Facebook, with eight or nine photos labeled “What I Think I Look Like”, “What my Husband Thinks I Look Like”, etc. It’s true that we all have different facets and other people will see us in their own way. But for me, before I had that photograph taken, the image I had in my head for myself was not pretty. I can’t even find an actual photo to post for comparison, because the worst ones are still better than my self-image at that time.
I begrudgingly booked the boudoir session at the behest of my best friend. She insisted that Sydney at Artistic Photography could do amazing pictures, even for a dumpy single mother like me. You know what? She was right. These pictures were taken nearly two years ago, and when I think about what I look like, I see this.
So ladies, if you want to truly feel pretty, don’t waste your time and money at the pharmacy. Let someone show you how beautiful you really are.
Dedicated to anyone who doesn’t get to spend Christmas with their loved ones on December 25th, but finds another time to be together and make an ordinary day into a holiday.
Today is Christmas for you
but it certainly wasn’t for me
I try to think of what it was
and all that it could be
All the things that it is now
and what it once was, then
a who, a how, a which, a why
but certainly not a when
It’s evenings like this that it’s really hard for me to stop writing and go to bed. My office is no more than a section carved out of the living room with my ginormous desk and uber comfy leather chair, but to be honest the laptop and I often park on the couch. The living room is distracting, though. The TV is there, and is usually on. The boyfriend is there, watching the TV. Before their reasonable bedtimes the kiddos are climbing all over me (but the laptop is afraid and stays on the desk). In short, it’s impossible to get anything done.
But tonight? The fireplace is crackling away and the TV is off. I’m the only one in here. Other than the cats, who are thoroughly exploring the Christmas tree that was just put up yesterday. I haven’t pulled out the rest of my décor yet, but even so it is nothing short of a Christmas card picture. One of the good ones, not those cheap ugly ones.
Nermal thoroughly getting into the Christmas spirit.
My attention was split between my laptop and a late night cable showing of Ghostbusters 2 when I heard the squeak of the door. At first I thought it was the cats, because they like to play around the bathroom door, but a few short seconds later I could see the figure of Violet stumbling toward me in the dimness.
“What’s the matter, baby?”
She said nothing, with her bleary not-really-awake eyes and a good size frown on her face. She just kept walking towards me.
“What do you need? What’s wrong?”
“I just need you.”
She piled herself on my lap, curling up and burying her face in my neck. She said she hadn’t had any nightmares, she was feeling okay, nothing was wrong.
“I just need you.”
My work was calling to me (I can’t ever seem to get caught up) but the weight of this child on my lap was calling me more. My mind drifted to beautiful spring days seven years ago, when a newborn baby girl and I would snuggle up on the couch. She would lay on my legs and we would play and watch TV. Sometimes she would fall asleep and I would read a book with the weight of the sleeping baby on my legs, warm and soft and perfect.
That was my paradise, in days when everything was happy and wonderful. The random and necessary course of life took a lot of that paradise away from me, but I got a little bit of it back tonight.