The Trick

I think we all love what I call Awesome and Cool Fat Babes. I mean, how can we not? There are incredible people out there like Sian and Rachele and Erin (to name so very few), and that's exactly what they are. Awesome and Cool. They all exude this contagious confidence, and they all seem so incredibly comfortable in their own skin.

Sometimes, I wonder if I carry off that persona half as well.

And then, after that, I realise that it's just that: a persona. I don't know these people very personally. I haven't met a single one, and I don't know that they're that confident all the time. Heaven knows I'm not.

That's the thing, though. We talk about and encourage self-confidence so much that it becomes the first thing we admire, and the first thing we envy. We see bloggers smiling at the camera like they have all the best secrets, see them standing tall and proud, see them showing off their bodies like they are the most precious of treasures. We see the images and words they send out into the void, and we see who they'd like us to see. Presumably, they show us who they'd like to be.

This isn't an indictment on the "unreality" of blogging, or whatever. Because we all do it. That's how this thing works. We show off what we think is the best of us and we allow ourselves a brief moment to fully encompass that being we project, and it's beautiful.

This isn't an indictment of anything, really. Just... I don't know. It's me saying that, while we all showcase our strength and confidence, we forget that everyone has bad days. I don't say that to bind us all together—no, our shared love of pizza and cute clothes does that pretty well (the pizza was just a speculation, but then, if you don't like pizza, that is wrong).

We, as a group, encourage self-confidence so strongly that every second without it feels like failure. It feels like falling from a great height, like you've lost something you've worked so hard to get. I mean, look at that blogger, she's so confident, why can't I be more like her?

We punish ourselves in this way. We forget something so incredibly, incredibly important.

IT IS OKAY NOT TO LOVE YOUR BODY ALL THE TIME.

IT IS OKAY NOT TO LOVE YOUR BODY AT ALL.

YOU ARE UNDER NO OBLIGATION TO LOVE YOUR BODY EVERY SINGLE SECOND OF EVERY SINGLE DAY.

While I think that the message of self love matters so much, I also think that we need to teach ourselves and our world that you are not a failure if you don't love your body or yourself. You are not wrong, you are not being stupid, you are not anything. You are allowed to feel what you feel. Don't you ever forget that.

Polka-Dot (Not) Bikini

I ended up getting this swimsuit. Mostly because it was one of the cheapest bathing suits I found that I actually liked. Though if I somehow come across some money, I'll probably end up buying this one.

Either way, this is a huge improvement after past swimsuits. I want to wear this with white skirts and red lipstick and my chambray wedges.

Oh, I'm brilliant.

This isn't a step back in confidence, either. This is the most colour my swimsuit has had since I turned twelve.

And, finally, Jess gave me confidence by saying, "Honestly, no one looks at anyone else in a bathing suit, because they're all too worried about how they look themselves. So do it!"

Would some swimsuit company like to offer me a free bikini please?

Liebster

Jess recently did this thing called the Liebster Award. That thing entails posting eleven things about myself, then answering eleven questions. I warn you here and now that this will be a long post. I regret nothing.

Eleven things about me!

(Totally doesn't call for an exclamation mark.)

Be Aware

I have a handful of posts lined up and in my head regarding body image, fat/body acceptance, body shaming,  and things of that nature. I'm letting you know in case you're not interested in reading them (don't worry, I'm not offended, clothes posts are nice too), or if they may somehow be triggering.

It's something that's become important to me in the past few years, and it's something I do like to talk about. So bear with me!

And if anyone would like to contribute anything to this discussion, let me know and we'll talk! I'd love for my fellow bloggers to join me in this. Heck, I'd love for readers to join in!

Let me know what you think, where you stand, or anything you'd like, really.

Evolution

Warning: super long. Sorry. Mostly.

I grew up with a mom who loved to sew and loved to dress up her daughter, in equal measures. Yes, I'm sure you can imagine the dresses and matching hats and all that. Don't worry, I'll relieve your imaginative powers and let you have this:

Bonus cousin! He's taller than me now.
He's three months younger.
I resent it.

Then, when I was in the third grade or so, I started growing out of these dresses (I mean this more metaphorically than physically, really). All I wanted was a pair of jeans. I started dressing a lot more tomboyishly around the fourth grade. Coincidentally (or not), this was when I moved out of the realm of Little Girl to Little Chubby Girl.