Thursday, January 2, 2014

♫...There's still a part of me that can't escape my insecurities...♫

All of us are self-conscious about something. Be it something physical, like your nose or thighs, or something like the way you snort when you laugh too hard. 

For me, currently, it's my belly. I'm convinced that all the last 30lbs I have left to lose resides in the pooch that (in my mind) visibly protrudes further than anything else on my frame. Also, after gaining 100lbs, & then losing 70 of it, I have more than my fair share of pink and white stretch marks decorating it. The thought of someone seeing me naked kind of horrifies me....which sucks because I like being naked. 

My mind is my worst enemy. It is constantly telling me that no one would ever want to be with me. I don't look like other girls I see...who are trim, with long graceful legs, and wildly successful lives. Why would anyone be satisfied with me and all my flaws (physical and emotional)?

Basically, my mind is a fucking bitch (just to me though).

Enough is enough. No, I don't look like a Victoria's Secret model...my belly isn't flat  or cute...and I work a normal, boring corporate job. So fucking what? I'm pretty goddamn cute at 34. I'm pretty fucking fun when I'm naked, & if someone is put off by my tummy they don't deserve to be naked with me. I'm good at my job...it drives me crazy, but I'm good at it...& I write whenever I can (badly, but I do it).

Yes, we all have our insecurities, but we don't have to let them keep us from having a good time. If anyone is rude enough to point them out, make fun of them, or reject us for them...I'd say to take the high road and ignore them, but fuck it...punch 'em in the tit or junk. 

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