On Motivational Mondays, I share a quote to set a positive tone for the week.
Sunset, Ft. Lauderdale, FL
Photo Credit: Doree Weller
“For beautiful eyes, look for the good in others; for beautiful lips, speak only words of kindness; and for poise, walk with the knowledge that you are never alone.”
-Audrey Hepburn
“A warm smile is the universal language of kindness.”
-William Arthur Ward
Be the most beautiful and kindest version of yourself that you can be this week.
Desert Botanical Gardens
Phoenix, AZ
Photo Credit: Doree Weller
When I started Feel Good Friday posts over 6 months ago, there were weeks when I had trouble finding 5 news stories to feature here. It would take me about an hour of searching to find things current and worth sharing. These days, I find way more than 5 news stories easily. Keep the positive focus, and good things will come.
A photographer takes pictures of her grandmother as a way of showing that her grandmother is the epitome of beauty. Beauty has no age.
Smiley, a puppy mill rescue born without eyes, goes on to be a therapy dog. It took love and training for him to learn not to be fearful, but once he did, his joy for life affected everyone else.
99 year old woman finished her 1,000th dress for little girls in Africa. Her goal was to get 1,000 before her hundredth birthday.
New Hampshire police are giving out tickets for following the law. Actually, they’re not tickets… they’re gift certificates. Police have been given gift cards to hand out to people walking their dogs on leash, using the cross walk to cross the street, that kind of thing.
“Everyone has inside of him a piece of good news. The good news is that you don’t know how great you can be! How much you can love! What you can accomplish! And what your potential is!”
-Anne Frank
Go forth and have a wonderful weekend!
Look! A fat cat!
You know, fat is pretty much the worst thing you can be. It’s worse than kicking puppies or using the wrong your-you’re-yore. It’s worse than war and worse than disease.
It’s not?
Oh yeah. It’s not.
So why do we all get so hung up over being fat? Either someone is hung up about it because they’re carrying too many pounds, or they’re all judgy because someone else is. I have a thin friend who occasionally says that she’s “channeling her inner fatty” when she indulges in food cravings. Once, I said that I was fat in front of a friend’s mother, and she said, “Oh, don’t say that. That’s the worst word you can say.”
Really? It’s worse than stupid? Or boring? Because I’d rather be called fat than stupid or boring. But those are my priorities.
Look, I’m fat. Not using the word doesn’t magically make me shed pounds. When I was in high school, I was called fat (even though I looked amazing), so I squeezed into the smallest size jeans I could, bruising my internal organs and never being able to inhale. I thought I looked great. It wasn’t until years later, hearing the word “muffin top” for the first time, that I realized that perhaps jeans in a size larger would have been better.
I have a double chin. It’s not contagious. It’s not a moral failing.
I’d like to lose some weight. I eat mostly vegetables and exercise. I almost never sit still. And I don’t lose weight.
I really hate how fat people are portrayed, and even worse, I hate that some of it’s true. I recently read a book called The Big, Not-So-Small, Curvy Girls Dating Agency by Ava Catori. I wanted to like the book, but the character spent most of the book drooling over a hot guy and feeling insecure because “guys like him don’t date girls like me.” I know that for a lot of overweight women, that’s how it works; that’s how they feel. And how sad is that? That she’s simultaneously drooling over his looks and hoping he’s not so superficial that he won’t be put off by hers?
In Fried Green Tomatoes by Fannie Flagg (amazing book, by the way), the main character eats all the candy and junk food she can gets her hands on, complains about being “fat,” and at one point reveals she’s a size 16. If I ate junk food the way she does, I’d probably be twice my weight. Listen: not everyone who’s fat is fat because they eat junk food. And not everyone who’s thin gets there by way of diet and exercise.
And who cares, anyway?
If you’re fat because you eat junk food and never exercise, who am I to judge you? Why is that even part of any discussion? Now, if you eat junk food because you feel lonely or depressed, that’s a different story. That’s sad and I’d love for you to work on that so you don’t have to feel that way, BUT, it’s not judgement-worthy. We all have choices.
I’ve mostly stopped being self-conscious about my weight. Yeah, I have bad days, and sometimes I see pictures of myself taken at a bad angle, and hate the way I look. But most of the time, I like the way I look. It’s nice to be able to say that and mean it.
We get all hung up on the word “fat,” and honestly, I don’t mind it. It’s accurate. You can say “overweight,” and it still means the same thing. Euphemisms don’t make the word mean something else. It just means you’re trying to be politically correct and obscure what you really mean.
News flash: I know overweight means fat. It’s okay.
Personally, I hate the word “obese.” That one gets thrown around a lot because of BMI, and it makes me think of people who are so large they can’t get out of their homes. But that’s not what obese means. I’m obese, of course, but I have friends who look like they’re at “normal” weights who are technically “obese.” *sigh*
We’re all different. Shapes, sizes, colors. It’s what makes the world go round. Whether you’re fat or thin, tall or short, black or white or brown (or some shade in between), just be the best you that you can be. Own it.
I sent this to a friend of mine:
And their response was: “So you’re beautiful.”
Best compliment ever.
Tune in for tomorrow’s tips about dealing with being fat. And no, I’m not writing about exercise.
I don’t need a reason to post a picture of a puppy!
I’ve been thinking a lot about age lately. I’m turning 37 today, and the major problem is that I don’t feel 37. I don’t feel like I’m on the shady side of 35 or approaching 40. When I was in my 20s, I knew I was aging only because I saw the numbers creep up. I didn’t have that awful time when I hit 30, and I’m not quite sure why. I know I look younger than 37 because I get told that from time to time. But even if I do start to look my age… so what? Why is that a bad thing? Age isn’t the enemy. As long as I can still do the things I want to do, I’m good. I know someone who’s hiked the Grand Canyon in his 50s, so I’m not out yet. Sure, I have some aches and pains, but nothing that holds me back.
This partly came to mind because of my birthday, and partly because I read an article about Gwyneth Paltrow going through a painful process to look younger. Well… she looks great, and I guess if your job is your body and face, then it’s important. But that sounds awful to me. I’m not willing to suffer for beauty; I just hope I’m one of those women who ages gracefully. Luckily, the women in my family don’t wrinkle!
In any case, I’ve started applying more lotion, especially to my face, than in past years. I never tanned, but I’ve been careless about sunscreen. I now take care of these things and also try to wear a hat outside. I’ll do things that are relatively easy, but painful, weird, chemical things to my face? Uh… no.
I recently read Man’s Search for Meaning, by Viktor Frankl, and he talks about how a life well-lived is more valuable than youth. Youth still has to find meaning and purpose in life, whereas someone with a life well lived has already found it. My life isn’t about how I look, so why focus on it? I’d rather focus on the things that are important, like being a good person and enjoying my adventures day to day. Enjoying those adventures means I’m going to get bumps, bruises, scars, and age spots. And that’s okay. If I have a day when it really matters, I’ll wear make-up.
I’d rather be interesting than beautiful.
What lengths are you willing to go to for beauty?
Do you ever think you’re never enough? Not pretty enough? Not fashionable enough? Not skinny enough, gourmet enough, housekeeper enough, mom enough, smart enough, energetic enough? This list could probably go on and on. In a culture where being the best and most beautiful is the goal, most of us will never meet it.
My dogs are mutts. Yeah, I say one is a German Shepherd and the other a Lab, but they’re both mutts. If I took them to an AKC event, no one would look twice at them. Ripley has a “defective” ear that won’t stand up straight. Midnyte has a cracked and dry nose. Neither of them are going to win beauty contests, but I think they’re the best dogs in the world. They greet me when I come home and sit at my feet when I read. They love me unconditionally, and I love them back the same way… even when Ripley wakes me up at 4 a.m., vomiting pieces of frisbee she thought looked tasty. (true story)
I often call my backyard my “sanctuary.” I love it back there. Wind rustles softly through my Mesquite tree and my Palo Verde. My wind chime sounds softly, and it all goes together with the birds chirping in my tree and my neighbor’s Mesquite, while I inhale the soft smell of desert mixed with the sweetness of things blooming. It’s never going to win any contests with Better Homes and Gardens, but I love it. Even when a dust storm blows through, leaving debris all over my yard.
My point is… even though these things probably aren’t the “best” in an objective way, they’re what I love. I love them for their flaws and despite their flaws. I love Ripley’s “defective” ear. It’s part of her quirky personality. I love Midnyte’s cracked nose. It reminds me that she’s getting older, and that she’s been a loyal friend for many years now. I love my crooked tree and the leaves piled in my yard. Because it’s home, and there’s no fragile illusion of perfection.
I’m me. Overweight, unable to do anything productive with my hair, chip in my front tooth. I’m also witty, sarcastic, and fiercely loyal to those I love. I could write an entire blog about what I’m not. But why would I? Why should I? I don’t have to be the best at something to enjoy it, and to bring enjoyment to others. I try to spread positivity. I’m still judgmental and rude sometimes, but I keep trying. Because life is a journey, not a destination. Cliche, but true.
I wrote this post because it’s been something I’ve been talking about in my group lately. And because someone posted this video on Facebook. It’s a powerful slideshow of pictures of beautiful women. The women in the video are ordinary, but the photographer captured the essence of who they are, in that one moment where their sense of humor, compassion, joy, or love shone through and was captured. I have pictures of me where I’m beautiful for that moment because who I was shone through for a moment. Beauty isn’t one moment in front of a mirror, or one day that your makeup and hair was perfect. It’s confidence. Love. Joy. Compassion. Loyalty. Being a mom (or a dad). Staying positive. Grieving someone who’s gone.
Here’s to 2014. Embrace possibility. Be beautiful. Go forth and awesome!
Doree Weller 