So yesterday, I was a multitasking master. We had just arrived home from a trip to St. Louis the night before, and in a very short span of time, I had cranked it OUT, folks. Before noon, I had fed my kids, put one down for a nap, played, done laundry, cleaned my kitchen, figured out how to make homemade mac & cheese without milk (thanks, google!), pulled something out for dinner, fed my kids again, dressed them, & showered & dressed myself. BOOYAH. Then, I went to work, came home, & in an hour's time, I managed to bake said mac & cheese, change diapers, make baby food, pack a diaper bag & swim bag, & make it to a friend's house ON TIME for dinner. HOLLA AT YA GIRL! YEAH! I FREAKING ROCK.
After the cookout, Joe headed home to put the kids to bed, & I ran to the grocery store to get some much needed essentials. As I stood waiting my turn at the deli, basking in the glory of getting through this day like a BOSS, a kind man started talking to me. We chatted a bit, and then he said, "So, you're expecting, I see!". Um, WHAT?! NO. HELL NO. Just like that, my little happy bubble burst into a thousand pieces. Day shattered. Accomplishments thrown by the wayside.
While I would like to say that I was able to let the man's assumption roll off my back, I am afraid the opposite is true. As I walked down the aisles, my mind filled with so much self loathing & disgust for the current state of my body that I could barely continue to shop. I was on the verge of tears, & as hard as I tried, those mean things I thought about myself could not be silenced. Finally, I stopped my cart, pulled out my phone, & texted my three close friends to tell them what had just happened. I dumped it on them so that I could stop dumping it on myself. It was the only thing I could think to do, & in that moment of desperation, I received an outpouring of love.
The texts started rolling in, telling me not to believe the lies in my head, that I was a good person - a beautiful person, that I was loved, that I wasn't alone. When I got to my car, I cried. I cried a lot. Partly because I was sad, but mostly because it felt good to know that people had my back.
I read once that if you wear good jeans & your hair looks nice, people often think you have it all together. I think I dress pretty well, & I love a cute hairdo, but can I tell you something? I am a MESS sometimes. Like, a BIG one. And right now, I am struggling. I am struggling with my body image. I am struggling with not liking what I see in the mirror every day. I am struggling with the idea that I might not ever look how I used to look, & that people might talk about it. I'll be honest; I love attention. I love being the funny one, the cute one, the best one. I really like being the cute one. I know it is dumb - it is totally ridiculous that I am in my thirties & still care about this, but I do. So when I don't look how I think I need to look, I tell myself some really crazy lies. I tell myself that I peaked in high school, that everyone thinks I'm fat, that I need to lose this last 10 pounds or I'll never look good again, that I'm not enough, that I'm ugly.
I know I'm not the only one who struggles with what they see in the mirror each day, because my friends (who I think are gorgeous, thin, & fabulous!) tell me they struggle too. I don't understand how they could struggle, since I see them as so fantastic, but they say the same to me. So what is WRONG here? Why are we doing this to ourselves? When am I going to believe that I am enough, & that I am doing the best that I can?
This must stop. And I know that I'm only one person, but I'm going to name it again.... and again... and again. However many times I need to name it, I'm going to do it until it stops. Stops for me, stops for all of us. We are enough. We are smart, kind, fun, beautiful, creative, and loved by God. I am enough. I am funny, emotional, loud, silly, compassionate, & giving. I am more than my weight, more than my face, more than a number on a scale. So I'm throwing that dumb thing out today. Out to the trash it goes. I'm letting good into my heart & I'm going to try my best to silence the lies. I have family, friends, and a God who sees me & knows me. They think I am enough, & I'm going to try to believe it too.
If you are reading this, could you do me a favor? Can you reply in the comments & tell me one good thing about yourself? I would love that. And maybe, just maybe, you need to be reminded that you are enough too.
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Monday, June 3, 2013
I Can't Fit Into My Jeans - And Other World Problems.
Oh! Hey there, guys! Remember me? The one who said she was going to write at least once a week? Yeah, I lied. I lied BIG TIME. Can you forgive me? Because I just don't know what I would do if we couldn't get past this...
Anyway, one & a half years and a baby girl later, I'm BACK. So let's chat, shall we? The topic I want to discuss tonight is one that is (unfortunately) very near & not so dear to me. And by very near, I mean ON MY BUTT. (I wanted to say ass, but I didn't... Oh, wait. Sorry, Mom!) That's right, friends... I CAN'T FIT INTO MY JEANS. There it is. There's the hard hitting issue I am dealing with right now. I know there is a small chance that other more important things are happing in the world, but I doubt it. And this is my blog, so I can do what I want.
"But Tiffany, you look so great in all of your Facebook/Instagram pictures!" DUH. Shoulders & up only, people! SHOULDERS & UP ONLY! I review each photo with the accuracy of a fighter pilot (You know, because they have perfect vision. Is that a horrible comparison?). Photos are tossed, lives are threatened, tears are shed... And then the chosen one is posted & presented as if it was just snapped on a whim. And then I appear to be pleasantly surprised with the lovely batch of compliments on how fabulous I look. Trust me, I KNOW how fabulous I look in that picture... I worked HARD to look that fabulous. So don't let the rainbows & butterflies fool ya. Mama's got a system.
I've been thinking about this a lot as I struggle to lose the last of my baby weight. (How long can I blame it on the baby? Five years? Ten?) I'm not one of those girls who pops out a kid & goes back to her high school body the next day. (I've been telling myself that I was too skinny in high school, anyway.) I gain the allotted 45 pounds when I have babies. They say that's how much you can gain, & damnit, I am gonna gain it! Sometimes I am an overachiever & even gain more. When I'm pregnant, I don't really WANT to work out. I don't really want to work out when I'm NOT pregnant. I'd rather lay on the couch & watch "The Real Housewives of Wherever" while eating french fries & ice cream. So that's kind of what I do.
Here's the thing, friends. I will take full responsibility for being lazy while creating another life in my womb. (WOMEN - REAL SUPER POWERS - WE MAKE HUMANS!) But I'm so tired of obsessing about how I look after the fact. I beat myself up - badly. I get depressed. I say & think horrible things about myself. I tell my husband that I'm ugly. (He disagrees EVERY TIME, & I tell him to shut up.) So, I'm naming it. I'm calling out this crap so that I can be free from it, & maybe someone else can be too. I've made two babies - two beautiful babies! (Yes, Joe helped, but really? Come on. We all know who does the real work.) So who cares if I am not good at losing weight right away? I'm good at other things. Like getting kids on kick ass sleep schedules. And being fun. And encouraging people. And dancing (I'm SO GOOD at dancing). And being a DJ (Did you know that I can drop some fresh beats?!) I'm a pretty good wife, a decent mom, a sassy but loving daughter/sister/friend. So THERE, society. Suck it. I don't have to be skinny to be awesome.
Recently, Joe's grandma passed away. She was an amazing woman who I respected a lot. At her funeral, people were called to witness about her life. During that time, not ONE person talked about skinny Norma Stalker was. No one mentioned what size clothing she wore, or how fantastic she looked. Instead, person after person spoke of her love for Christ, her commitment to her family, & her passion for others. That is how I would love to be remembered... How about you?
This might seem a little heavy for some of you. I promise to be lighter the next time, whenever that will be. (Don't hold your breath!) But I couldn't shake the need to put this out into the Universe... Partly to help myself, but partly to help other women too. Because I know that I'm not the only one. So if you are reading this, & you feel a little chubby, or ugly, or all around BLAH, this is for you. You're not alone. And I think you look FANTASTIC.
Cheers!
PS - To my last eight pounds... I'm coming for you. So quit being an a-hole & back up off me.
Anyway, one & a half years and a baby girl later, I'm BACK. So let's chat, shall we? The topic I want to discuss tonight is one that is (unfortunately) very near & not so dear to me. And by very near, I mean ON MY BUTT. (I wanted to say ass, but I didn't... Oh, wait. Sorry, Mom!) That's right, friends... I CAN'T FIT INTO MY JEANS. There it is. There's the hard hitting issue I am dealing with right now. I know there is a small chance that other more important things are happing in the world, but I doubt it. And this is my blog, so I can do what I want.
"But Tiffany, you look so great in all of your Facebook/Instagram pictures!" DUH. Shoulders & up only, people! SHOULDERS & UP ONLY! I review each photo with the accuracy of a fighter pilot (You know, because they have perfect vision. Is that a horrible comparison?). Photos are tossed, lives are threatened, tears are shed... And then the chosen one is posted & presented as if it was just snapped on a whim. And then I appear to be pleasantly surprised with the lovely batch of compliments on how fabulous I look. Trust me, I KNOW how fabulous I look in that picture... I worked HARD to look that fabulous. So don't let the rainbows & butterflies fool ya. Mama's got a system.
I've been thinking about this a lot as I struggle to lose the last of my baby weight. (How long can I blame it on the baby? Five years? Ten?) I'm not one of those girls who pops out a kid & goes back to her high school body the next day. (I've been telling myself that I was too skinny in high school, anyway.) I gain the allotted 45 pounds when I have babies. They say that's how much you can gain, & damnit, I am gonna gain it! Sometimes I am an overachiever & even gain more. When I'm pregnant, I don't really WANT to work out. I don't really want to work out when I'm NOT pregnant. I'd rather lay on the couch & watch "The Real Housewives of Wherever" while eating french fries & ice cream. So that's kind of what I do.
Here's the thing, friends. I will take full responsibility for being lazy while creating another life in my womb. (WOMEN - REAL SUPER POWERS - WE MAKE HUMANS!) But I'm so tired of obsessing about how I look after the fact. I beat myself up - badly. I get depressed. I say & think horrible things about myself. I tell my husband that I'm ugly. (He disagrees EVERY TIME, & I tell him to shut up.) So, I'm naming it. I'm calling out this crap so that I can be free from it, & maybe someone else can be too. I've made two babies - two beautiful babies! (Yes, Joe helped, but really? Come on. We all know who does the real work.) So who cares if I am not good at losing weight right away? I'm good at other things. Like getting kids on kick ass sleep schedules. And being fun. And encouraging people. And dancing (I'm SO GOOD at dancing). And being a DJ (Did you know that I can drop some fresh beats?!) I'm a pretty good wife, a decent mom, a sassy but loving daughter/sister/friend. So THERE, society. Suck it. I don't have to be skinny to be awesome.
Recently, Joe's grandma passed away. She was an amazing woman who I respected a lot. At her funeral, people were called to witness about her life. During that time, not ONE person talked about skinny Norma Stalker was. No one mentioned what size clothing she wore, or how fantastic she looked. Instead, person after person spoke of her love for Christ, her commitment to her family, & her passion for others. That is how I would love to be remembered... How about you?
This might seem a little heavy for some of you. I promise to be lighter the next time, whenever that will be. (Don't hold your breath!) But I couldn't shake the need to put this out into the Universe... Partly to help myself, but partly to help other women too. Because I know that I'm not the only one. So if you are reading this, & you feel a little chubby, or ugly, or all around BLAH, this is for you. You're not alone. And I think you look FANTASTIC.
Cheers!
PS - To my last eight pounds... I'm coming for you. So quit being an a-hole & back up off me.
Friday, January 20, 2012
I Love Jesus, but I Drink a Little
A dear friend of mind has, on more than one occasion, told me that I should start a blog. I have brushed her off a few times, but the self-absorbed, attention seeking, over opinionated part of me cannot be quieted any longer. And so, I shall blog. Please know that if you are reading this & have your own blog, I am in no way suggesting that you are an attention hog. But I AM, and you already know this if you know me. (In fact, if you are reading this, I am SURE that you know me. Because as much as I would like to believe that I am almost famous & have a hoard of fans awaiting my every move, I know that this is FAR from true.)
So, here is my disclaimer regarding this blog... If you are looking for something deep, something inspirational, or something life changing, you might want to search a little further. I am not your girl. I also have several sweet friends who do a great job of writing about family, house projects, & recipe ideas. I LOVE their blogs. I read them every week. But this blog will not cover any of that stuff either. I adore my cute hubby & am nuts over my fabulous son, but I think I’m just going to keep this about me. :) I'm sure they will be included in some posts. They deserve some sort of shout out for putting up with my crazy shenanigans, & we all know that spouses & kids make great material. But as of now, that will not be the main theme on this site. If, however, you are interested in all things superficial, my thoughts on life, or just a good laugh, please feel free to stop on by. I know A LOT of useless information, & have an opinion on almost everything, so why not write about it?
That being said, I want to address a few things before I get started. All of those reading this have known me at different places in my life. I have been a preacher’s kid, a cheerleader, a sorority sister, a mean girl, & a drama queen. (These ladies still pop up on occasion.) My past has some “color” in it. Compared to my husband, Saint Joseph, my past has all SORTS of color going on... Compared to Britney Spears, not so much. I have done things that I regret, but I have also done things of which I am proud. I have a short temper, a sassy mouth, and judge people too harshly. But I also love deeply, give freely, & can be your biggest fan. I have been a really good friend, but I have also been a really crappy friend. Same goes for wife & mother. But I’m at a point in my life where I’m okay that I don't have it all together. I’m sooo not perfect, & I never will be. I eat more than I should, yell more than I should, & think I know more than I actually do. At times, I'm a walking/talking contradiction. I love Jesus, but I drink a little. (& curse a little too.) I’m a mess, but in Christ, there is love & grace, right? So I guess I'm okay with my messiness... And maybe this will make someone else feel a little more normal in their journey too.
This, my friends, starts a journey. . It is meant to be fun, so don't take what I write too seriously... And on that note, Kim & Kourtney Take New York is on, so I must leave you. Until next time, homies.
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