I’m not happy with how I look in the red dress. Technically speaking, it fits. Like a glove. I’m just not ready to wear form-fitting dresses, yet. It might look okay or even good to other people, I don’t know. Sometimes women see their own bodies through a distorted lens when they have a poor self-image. I mean, I can say it looks good in some areas, but in others, not so much.
But I’m not done, yet, either. I do still have a little ways to go. I’m just getting nervous, now, because the stuff I want to disappear or at least diminish seems to be hanging on stubbornly.
One time when I was maybe 11 or 12, I asked my father how much liposuction cost. I thought my thighs were too heavy. He got so mad he yelled at me just for asking. I wonder if he had any idea where that kind of self-doubt at such a young age was coming from. My parents were still together at that point.
I don’t ever talk about my weight or my feelings about it in front of the kids. I do not want them going through the same experience as me. I will never nit-pick at their weight, either. I suspect Aislyn will be built like me, and that’s really not so terrible.
Whatever her body type, though, it’s really important to me that she doesn’t hate it.
I just don’t know how much I can protect her from the rest of the world. For example, she’s only four, and what does she want for Christmas? Makeup. She doesn’t get that from me; I don’t wear any. Last year, she colored her lips with a red magic marker: “I so pretty.”
I don’t have the time or patience for any of that stuff: makeup, exfoliating, blowdrying my hair. I get bored doing all of those things and give up on them well before they’re finished. Mine is a kind of unrefined, natural beauty in the rough. Lol, I’m kidding, of course…kind of.