Tag Archives: confidence

I can be a mean girl.

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Greetings, friends! I can be a mean girl. Who, me? Yes, me! Read to find out why.

Y’all know I can be a little bit blunt. Sometimes, I lack a filter. It’s one of those traits of mine that’s either endearing or obnoxious, but as Lady Gaga says, I was born this way! Yesterday, my delightful friend Kelly came over for dinner. We were discussing Victoria’s Secret, and I complained that their bras don’t fit “fat-asses like me.”. “That is SO mean!”, she said. “What? That they don’t make my size?”, I asked, chewing my meatloaf nonchalantly. “No, that you would call yourself a fat ass! Even if you think it’s funny, how would you feel if I called you a fat ass?” I told her I’d kick her butt, and then I realized she’s right. It gave me some food for thought for a minute, until today when I blurted out that among the land of petite people (Asia), I would probably be a “large commodity”. My husband again pointed out that I was being mean to myself, and I thought, “Shucks! I AM being mean to myself.” Mean is not a trait I’d say I embody. I’m always the person who makes an effort to talk to the shy, to hold the door open, to compliment a new outfit. Sometimes I’m so nice it makes me angry with myself. But… Kelly pointed out that I’m a mean girl. To myself.

I am confident and pretty and usually feel attractive. So why am I calling myself mean names?

I usually consider myself extraordinarily positive with my self esteem. I know I’m attractive, beautiful even, and usually when I look in the mirror I feel good about myself – about my natural blonde curls, or my milky skin, or even the fine fringe of eyelashes that line my baby blues. Sadly, the negative thoughts I do have are always about my body. I’m always too big, or too fat, or thinking I’ll stand out because of my size. I’m a little bit early for New Year’s resolutions, but here’s one of the first for 2013 – Curb the negative self talk. It doesn’t help anybody and it certainly doesn’t make anyone laugh like I had hoped it would (ok, maybe my brother and sister laugh, but that’s only because we’ve made a national pastime about joking about our weight). Kelly and Matt are totally right – even if I make fun of myself in “humor”, somewhere, that message resonates with my brain and makes me feel even worse about it.

Rubens painted all of his ladies as full-figured and curvaceous. I was born in the wrong era!

So, the next time I complain about my rubenesque stature, I need to use words that are kinder. Not fat, not fat ass, not fatty, not huge, not gargantuan. More like, voluptuous, curvy, plus-sized, rubenesque, full-figured. Because even though my body may not fit into the ideal of what looks “pretty”, my body is pretty. I know this in my heart, and I need to make my thoughts match my mouth in the most positive way possible.

So let’s discuss – I’m sure I’m not the only female out there who has shamefully caught herself in negative self-talk. Do you ever find yourself dissing your body? Men, how about you?

Happy Halloween! Keeping the confidence (even in costume!) by April

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This past week has been quite exciting for me as it is my favorite time of the year, Halloween!  I don’t go out all too often but when Halloween is coming, I transform from a loyal-to-my-leaf caterpillar into an enthusiastic social butterfly.  I successfully went out three nights this past weekend, each night in a different costume.

I don’t feel the best about myself all the time because of my weight but it doesn’t stop me from being comfortable with myself while I am in public, especially at Halloween time.  The past two years worth of costumes have rocked because I’ve been getting a lot of positive attention from the opposite sex which DEFINITELY boosts up my confidence levels.  Or maybe the guys just really like costumes that emphasize a woman who brings them beer. (Last year I was a Czech/Swedish beer girl and this year I was a German version.)

Last night while I was at one of the parties, a group of us girls were all sitting around with each other gabbing when one of them looked at their phones, sighed, and said “my friends don’t want to come out because they think they’re too fat.”  We all laughed and I told her that even if they were fat, they should rock it and come out anyway.  The girl said that her friends were not fat at all and actually were quite thin but just lacked the confidence to come out in a costume.

Upon my initial shock of hearing that news, I reminded myself of what I learned while I was working at the women’s gym a few years ago.  I learned that the women I thought would have 100% confidence in themselves were just as nervous about their bodies as a woman packing the extra pounds. It didn’t matter if the woman was a size 2 or a size 20.  She still had issues about herself that she didn’t like, whether it was the way the fat bunched together on her back or the way her veins would show through her fat-less skin.

If I knew then what I know now, I would tell these women that what they should be focused on is not worrying about what others think of them but worrying about the way they view themselves.  I feel confidence is one of the most attractive personality features in a person because it shows that THEY are the most important person in their lives.  Plus, how can you expect others to be able to love you if you can’t even love yourself?

 

Lots of love and a little bit candy,

 

 

 

 

 

Don’t Sweat It

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I sweat. A lot. Like to the point of “Hey now, heard there’s a water shortage in Southern California. Want some sweat?” Let’s get right to the point. Here’s a picture of me last night after an hour of boxing. We did these awesome drills called “suicides” where you take turns with your sparring partner and beat the bag in minute-long sessions – first uppercuts, then jabs, then hooks. It was badass.

After 55 minutes of pure cardio - I sweat!

See that dark smudge on my shirt? That’s sweat. See how my hair looks brown? That’s sweat. See how my face is shiny and red and blotchy? That’s sweat. See that smile? That’s confidence. See this picture? That’s proof.

A friend of mine joined my gym and we took this kickboxing class together. Afterwards she expressed her surprise at my level of  sweat by saying “You’re like.. WET!” My response to her was “That’s why I’m here!” My sweatiness is something that trips me out sometimes, because as ladies, we’re expected to be dainty, feminine and polite, and if we sweat, it should be little glistening dew drops that glimmer like diamond shimmer powder on our foreheads. Not big, rolling rivers of salty sweat that drips into our eyes and puddles onto the floor. Or at least that’s what we’re supposed to think. I now know that for me, a good workout is measured in the level of “dew” on my body – is the small of my back damp? How about the back of my neck? Do my hands feel clammy, like a 14 year old boy’s at his first school dance? When I work out, it’s not pretty. I’m not there to walk a runway. I’m there to put the WORK in working out… and I’m pretty sure hard work doesn’t always look pretty, unless you’re Heidi Klum or Alexander Skarsgard.

I joined a women’s gym because there’s a comfort level I needed to have to start working out. I sweat like a beast, and when I’m doing squats, I didn’t want to worry about Joe the Plumber staring at my butt as it rippled in agony. I wanted to wake up on Saturday mornings, as I now do, and roll out of bed with wild, frizzy squirrel hair and smudged mascara and have a hell of a workout.  I wanted to wear a tank top and not worry about my chicken wings flapping in the powerful air conditioning, and most of all, I wanted to feel like NOBODY WAS WATCHING as I began the intimate process of getting my body into shape. Because it’s my business – not theirs. (heh, the irony is not lost on me that I end up blogging about it anyways)

I’m a hot, sweaty mess after my workout and I don’t care. Actually, I do care. If I’m not sweating, I didn’t make my body work hard enough. No guts, no glory. So a little bit of wetness, perspiration, moisture or dew? Bring it on. I’m waterproof, and washable. I’m not sweatin’ it.