We Are All Beautiful
Genetics, gotta love 'em, gotta hate 'em. Who I am today is 75% a gift from my mom and dad and 25% my own actions and environment. Ok, so maybe that's not totally true but at least when it comes to my looks and health, I thank my parents.
Sometimes I'm afraid when I pass my reflection in the mirror because I think I saw my dad. It's true that I've been confused for a man many times in my life. One time, I was even at a fancy restaurant, dolled up in a sexy black dress, which did nothing to prevent the waiter from repeatedly calling me "Sir." I look like my dad with longer hair, from the highly freckled translucent skin and beady eyes to the uniquely shaped nose.
Let's be honest. I usually resent the comparison. It's not like my dad is George Clooney and I am Georgettte. Actually, my dad looks like Berle Ives. Does that make me Berlette? Shudder.
But, I've got to hand it to my dad. Until he quit smoking 10 or so years back he was a really thin and trim guy. Some may have even criticized him for being too skinny. I suppose a very nervous personality plus 3 cups of coffee and 10 cigs a day will make you an Energizer bunny, burning off every calorie you eat.
Lucky for me I didn't need the coffee or cigs to have the slender figure I took pride in for 28 years. I have always been the skinny girl and not once did I worry about what I ate and how it impacted my weight. I'd laugh when my mom told me she weighed what I did as a 15-year-old when she was 8. I wore bikinis, ran with just a sports bra and shorts. I could see my toes when I looked down in the shower.
Then I had a baby and everything seemed to change. Or so I thought. It's been a couple of years now and I still have a post-baby belly, a soft chin and a wide ass, but I chalk some of it up to getting older as much as being heavier. I'm back into my skinny genes. And my skinny jeans. So, I guess that makes me back to being the bitchy girl with no sympathy for anyone else.
What I'm trying to get at is this: I was surfing the web last night and came across OMG's massacre of Jessica Simpson, who has gained some weight since her Daisy Duke days. And I laughed. I laughed at her chubby arms and big butt. Then, I felt like a jerk. In reality, Jess, in her new curvy body, probably only weighs 140. Well, what if I put on that outfit and had someone take a picture looking up at me and my ass? Not to mention, Jess is gorgeous and does not resemble Berle Ives in any way.
A friend recently told me she did not want to go to a high school friend's wedding because she's gained weight and didn't want people to see her in her current body. My reaction was sadness for her and support. To me, she is beautiful and I think she has a great body. I also respect that she wants to lose weight and misses her teenage body. How can I one day be angry that people would judge us based on our looks and the next day join in at poking fun at a person I don't even know?
I missed going to the gym this morning, am packing down Pringles and sitting in my pajamas. And I am ME and I am OK. And so are YOU. And so is JESSICA SIMPSON.