Well tonight, ladies and gentlemen, I stopped sweeping and I started cleaning. Yes, of course the conversation started to go into train wreck mode, but then I calmed down and remembered that I can’t come off like I’m attacking someone, so I stepped back and attempted to explain, rather than accuse. Of course, it was very emotional and it’s always a heart attack waiting to happen for me, but it was well needed and very overdue.

I don’t really know the outcome of this whole situation, but I know that I finally took the first step of peace making (not peace keeping, mind you). I gave my heart on a silver platter and took the stab. Will things change after a conversation like this? Will the one believe the other’s side and vice versa? After the two sides meet, do they try to mend the bridge or do they continue to burn it, log by log..I’m tired of burning things, if you really want to know the truth..Too many burns means too many scars. The mending wall takes longer but it heals.

A  heart can feel like a thousand shattered pieces of glass ..Just being overwhelmed and worried and even relieved that everything was said and done for the greater good and for the hope of new life in a relationship. I trust that God will help mend this broken heart and the other side’s broken heart.

and this is two sides..and then some.

*side note*(this isnt about my boyfriend..so don’t worry..but no one will know who this is about either )

And I’ve done all I can
To stand on her steps with my heart in my hands
Now I’m starting to see
Maybe it’s got nothing to do with me

CHORUS
Fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too

Oh, you see that skin?
It’s the same she’s been standing in
Since the day she saw him walking away
Now she’s left, cleaning up the mess he made

CHORUS
Fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too

Boys, you can break
You’ll find out how much they can take
Boys will be strong and boys soldier on
But boys would be gone without warmth from
A woman’s good, good heart

On behalf of every man
Looking out for every girl
You are the god and the weight of her world

———-

:-/

I watched a documentary today on the creation of the bikini. It was marvelous. During WWII, the US rationed off a lot of supplies and one of the items they decided to ration was the cloth on bathing suits. So what did that mean? You guessed it. They ordered bathing suits to eliminate 10% of its fabric. That meant a mere 4-5 inches right underneath the bust, and right above the belly button. Though it raised tons and tons and tons of controversy throughout the world, the bikini found its way to every girl’s closet in the next ten years.

The whole idea behind the bikini (after its original idea for its birth) was the freedom of the woman’s body. It was the idea that women could not wear a bra but then put on a bikini and say to the world, “Hello! This is my body and I just don’t care what you think! I’m wearing a bikini to celebrate my body!”

Though this idea is completely skewed today-bikinis now more of an epidemic of skinny girl-itis and the constant worry that your legs are too fat and your stomach isn’t flat enough and your arms are too flabby- it is still a powerful tool that women use to have a sort of mysterious power that ONLY women can obtain.

After this wonderful documentary, I watched a fashion show with an up and coming designer who was trying to get her clothes to sell at a Neimann Marcus store and the host of the show (who was helping her out) told her to cut a dress out for a size 8 model to  show that she’s creating pieces for the everyday woman. Now, I understand that the average woman is probably the size 8, if not between 6-12. Kudos to all of you beautiful women. But I was just blown away that when the model (size 8 ) walked into the room, the designer (who was a woman) looked at her and was absolutely devastated. She asked, “WHY IS THERE A PLUS SIZED MODEL HERE?!”  I’m sorry, but when did a size 8 become the new size 12 or 14 or even 16? I was thoroughly upset, as you can see.

This made me snap out of my wallowing state towards my own body as of late. It’s really hard to lose weight while at school and work because I feel like I never had time to prepare food for the next day, so I eat whatever comes my way. And yes, I’m jumping back on a healthier balanced diet on Monday with my mom, along with continually hitting the gym, but I really have to just love my body now. To love my body now means that I want the best for it which will help me continue to fill it with great food and to exercise it. And so what that I’m a plus size? So many of us are and with the right style and knowledge about what looks great with your body type, anyone can look amazing! I probably always will be a “plus size” according to America’s standards, but I’m also 6′ tall and am big boned. And I think for the first time in my life, I’m totally ok to be of model-esque structure.  I just want to lose a few pounds and find a place that makes fabulous clothes for tall women!

Anyway, I’m tired of myself being ashamed of the clothing size I am. I’m a 16. I am plus sized.  And I am proud of the woman I am. I carry myself well because I make it my business to know how to dress my pear shaped, hour glass, whatever you want to call it, body.

And who knows, maybe this summer I’ll be busting out my very own body-lovin’ bikini!

I honestly don’t know what I’m doing here. I feel like a poser, a fraud..being in college is for someone smarter than me, it seems. Why do I feel so unintelligent in my Lit. classes? They speak of Frost and Hardy and Yeats as if someone gave them the answer to the depths of their soul. Well, where can I pay the toll to get the answers too? I want to know the secret to poetry and British play on words. I want to know why I cannot come up with or comprehend these insane comments or interpretations of literature. Am I not supposed to be here? Am I not supposed to try to love this? I love reading. I almost love writing. So why do I fail at this? Why do I fail at feeling like I’m good at something? I feel like I have no drive anymore..did I ever have drive? I feel like I’m not passionate about anything in particular. I don’t live for Literature. I don’t live for music. I love them both, but I go about for days without doing either, it seems. Does that mean I’m a failure? A failure to be passionate? The only thing I’m passionate about these days is stuffing my face with pasta alfredo and hot dogs. I hate this feeling. I feel worried all the time. Anxious. To top it off, I don’t think I’m going to be able to finish on time at school. I completely looked over two classes that are a requirement and it’s setting me back for summer classes. I feel like I can’t finish. Will I even be a good teacher? I’ve never taught a class and the thought of it makes me want to vomit sometimes. What if they hate me? What if I suck? What if I tell them a verb is really an adjective? Oh God…what am I doing here.. I feel like curling up in the fetal position and crying for a week. Is this how every other college student feels eventually? Before the breakthrough? Is there a meltdown? A regurgitated complaint of three years of suffering into one week of agony? Does it hit everyone like a bag of bricks? (A big bag, I might add)..Everyone tells me to relax, but no one understands.. they don’t understand how I’m feeling. How I’m functioning. I’m floating day to night, night to day, wondering when I’ll wake up and know that I’m doing the right thing. Can I just have a sign? Maybe I just needed to write. Sometimes I feel better when I plaster my soul on this blog thing. Sometimes just knowing that other people know at least SOMETHING about my insides helps me get through. Maybe they’ve been here too. Maybe this is just normal and I don’t know it yet. If that’s the case, then oh boy. I don’t want this. Maybe I should try to write a novel and forget everything else. Screw reading other authors’ books and poems, I’ll write my own!

I think I’m done. West Wing will save me.

my heart is in your hands..

your hands protect me

hold me

love me

take me

and when someone asks why I trust your hands

with my heart,

I simply say, “Because I love him”…

and to be able to have the privilage of holding your

heart in my own hands is like being on top

of the world..

our two worlds met, our hands clasped together

and we’ve been inseparable..

and  when someone asks where my heart is..

I still let them know that my heart..is in your hands

http://ascd.org/publications/books/199234/chapters/Considering-the-Possibilities.aspx

This brings me to my next thought..

About a week ago, I found out that a young lady, who had happened to catch the bouquet at my best friend’s wedding, passed away due to a car crash. She was my age, had a boyfriend she wanted to marry, and was just so happy and funny. (And this was all assumed only 5 minutes after meeting her..she was truly something else). And though I don’t personally know her, it really made me take a step back from the routines of life that day and made me wonder how I’d be remembered if it happened to me..I guess that’s a little dark or depressing, but it’s true. Actually, this entire year has been this way..We’ve had so many brides and people around us dealing with cancer and death and it’s just a shock every time we hear it. Brides with breast cancer..one who beat it, was cleared for her wedding, then finding out it came but only a few months after. Another bride, who at 23, beat stage 4 colon cancer, then a yr later beating lung cancer. Another woman across the street fighting for her life with the most rare form of cervical cancer. This constant reminder of how young these women are just devistates me and makes me realize that it could be me..I pray it never will be. Life can be given and taken away so quickly in this world we’re living in.

I just want to be the reminder in your lives today that life is but a gift, and we must live it like it’s our last breath everyday that we wake up. How are we going to be remembered? Are we going to be the “mean” person? “Selfish” person? “Greedy” person? The “liar”? Or are we going to be the “compassionate”, “loving”, “selfless”, “respecting”, “funny” person? I want to be the latter of the two, but that’s just me.

This drives me to want to be the best I can be everyday that I’m alive. I want to be the best sister today. The best daughter. Girlfriend. Friend. Confidant.  The best Christ-love someone’s experienced today. The best laugh. The best student. The best follower of Christ today. This is my daily goal. And do I screw up at times? Sure. Do I forget sometimes? Of course. But the beauty of this is that I try, and when I have the privilege of waking up the next morning, I get to try all over again.

So I ask you now..Are you who you want to be? Are you the attitude you want people to remember you by? The smile they’ll remember? The laugh? The love? The friend? Sister, brother, daughter, son, girlfriend, or boyfriend? Let’s start today..and just enjoy life and not let worries or concerns overtake you when you can be smiling.

2 eggs, over easy. Cooked mushrooms, chicken, and zucchini.

Lettuce, apples, chicken, tomatoes, almonds, and light honey mustard dressing.

End.