I am a woman. I am a mother, a lover, an artist and an author.
I am beautiful…as the world says you should be and just in general.
I have large breasts, a small waist, large hips and a fairly nice sized back side and long legs. My skin is the color of caramel or honey. My eyes are light brown and cat shaped. I have a cute nose, pretty lips that are a shade of rose that no cosmetic designer could ever imagine to make. On top of all of this, I am six foot tall.
Men talk to me like I’m stupid. They express their desires as if I’m on board. They assume when I’m without my boyfriend that I’m single and lonely. They never expect me to be intelligent and when the game of wits comes to a spiraling end, they wish they hadn’t even asked my named.
Women either become my friend because I benefit them somehow or they hate me and are jealous because they’re insecure. The few female friends I do have are genuine. And this is why we’re friends.
People have this idea when you’re an attractive woman that you’re an easy slut who’s a bitch that wears makeup because you’re insecure. And the only reason you have beautiful skin or a nice figure is to seduce a man, even without effort. You’re supposed to be stupid and mean so everyone can say however they feel and still expect your respect.
I was told at a young age I’d be nothing but a stripper or a rich man’s toy. That I was worthless and vain.
As I grew older, I needed to “lose weight” after having two kids back to back. And my mother always implied if I didn’t, whatever man I managed to get would leave me for a smaller woman.
I have tummy pudge and I love it. Most of all, my significant other loves it. He loves my body. He tells me he does on a daily basis. But he doesn’t just marvel at my body.
When we first got serious, I was always surprised when I caught him bragging to his coworkers about me. Not about how I looked…but my accomplishments as an author and artist.
Then he continuously tells me how I am a great mother. Wow. Not hearing you’re beautiful 24/7 is amazing.
It got me to thinking about how insecure my mother is. And friends I cut loose. And just other women in general.
But other women didn’t do what I did. I recognized my beauty. Fully. I cherished (and still do) my intelligence. Then I accepted my flaws. My beauty is a perception of perfection, my flaws coincide with duality to measurably level both sides out.
I found balance within myself and without hearing it from someone else.
You will not stop the crowds if you push against them. What you can do is ignore the crowds since the crowds don’t even know what they want.
Women are a huge part of why men want the impossible. If you’re short and fat, skinny and tall. Large at the shoulders or not as pretty as other women…
Oh well. Why should I feel bad about something you can’t help?
Instead of women bashing against other women, why don’t we all just shut the fuck up for once?
Who asked you how you felt about another person? Half of us can’t get out of the mirror while the other half wishes my boyfriend belonged to them.
We live in a world of instant replacement. If you can have it right then and there.
Search and destroy.
And who better to do this than an insecure bitter woman?
I know your life has been hard. I was molested at the age of five until I was seven. And constantly had some random female spewing hate against me.
I realized the issue and now refuse to listen to it. But if we all took time to notice our self worth, we wouldn’t be trying to tear down someone else’s.
Though we come second, you have to put yourself first. Stop worrying about what I’m doing. It’s my life. Not yours.
And if society cannot accept who you are…acknowledge the bullshit, but don’t play along.
Build yourself up no matter how many times you’ve been taken down. Take a deep breath, and keep it moving.
Because no one on this planet has any idea what it’s like to be you. Therefore, they, themselves are probably a lot more miserable than they are portraying.