Skip to main content

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.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

I Love Otsego but I Love Andy More

Growing up, my big brother was your typical older brother. He loved to torture me and his favorite hobby was making me mad or making me cry. He took my own stuff and made me buy it back from him at a yard sale. He put dog crap in my socks and sneakers. He threw spit balls at me, pinched me and never let me win at any games. Despite his daily doses of teasing and displeasing me, I did notice that he wasn't particularly interested in other people making me mad or making me cry. I'm not saying he was ready to fight on my behalf, or ride up on a white horse to protect me, but he was pretty firm in his position as the number one bane of my existence. Despite the fact that he no longer tortures me quite like he used to, our relationship has left a lasting impression on me, long into adulthood. As a self proclaimed arm chair therapist, I take note that I have been trying to work through that relationship for years-with Andy. Poor Andy had no idea that, when we started dating, I'…

Holiday Letters- in Two Versions!

I don’t know about you but I love a good holiday letter. Nothing sends me into a tailspin of self doubt and depression like reading the carefully crafted story of the highs and accomplishments of those in my life. As the letters flow in, alongside the photos of the beautiful smiling faces of my loved ones, I curl up under a warm blanket, look out at the bleak, gray winter skies and think: what the fu#k is wrong with me?We are so fortunate, due to modern technological advances, to be able to experience this self doubt an average of 20-50 times per day as we addictively scroll a variety of social media channels. Yet nothing truly confirms our own personal inadequacies like a yearly summary of others’ successes and happiness neatly packed in an 8 1/2 X 11 sheet of paper, folded in thirds and slipped into an envelope alongside a card collage of beach shots, matching sweaters and smiling, happy faces. I, too, have sent along such letters to accompany our smiling happy faces, providing thos…

An Open "PM" to Polly

Hey Polly, it’s me- Melissa. Can I call you Polly? Because I feel like I know you. Do I know you? We’ve been in the same social media circles for many months now.I see from your profile that you went to Cornell. I have a lot of friends that graduated from there. It’s an awesome school. What year did you graduate? I also see that you’re self-employed. I really respect entrepreneurs, particularly female entrepreneurs. What’s your business? Are you a photographer because your Facebook profile picture of Doubleday Field is fantastic.I see that you don’t have any Facebook friends, Polly. I understand that. Are you lonely? It can be really lonely around here. Listen Polly, this election got really nasty but at the end of the day are all neighbors right? Do you want to meet, do you want to talk about it? Haven’t seen you on social media since the election. I totally get where you’re coming from, Polly. It’s been hard for me, too. When you put yourself out there with really strong opinions pe…