You guys, I wrote most of this blog post DAYS ago. I only had to fill in a few blanks and there it would be. A masterpiece. My BEST. BLOG. POST. YET.
I can’t find it.
I don’t know what the fuck I did, but it’s not saved anywhere. Yes, I checked that. And I checked that, too. It’s just gone.
This blog post was the one. The one that would catapult me to the ‘Decent amount of readers, but still, mentioning the blog or writer to virtually anyone and they are going to say Who?’ level. You know, that level that still looks at the Bloggess and says, fucking hell, she is incredible. I hate her so much. Wonder if she has a new blog post? I am SO not buying her book. No way. Other than downloading it on my Kindle. Of course I’m going to do that.
This was the one that would earn me that little bald statue. Yep, I would have gotten an Oscar next year. It was SO good, that the academy would have added a ‘self-indulgent blog’ category because of this post. The post that I lost.
Fuck off, I really want to walk down the red carpet one day. Is that REALLY too fucking much to ask?
Well, now I have to start over and try to recreate that brilliance. No rubbing shoulders with people who harbor deep admiration and burning envy toward the successful bloggers. Also, I suspect the red carpet is right out.
I’ve written about self acceptance a couple of times. I meant those posts very much. But I was no where NEAR self acceptance when I wrote them. I’m still not.
I had an epiphany the other night.
I had short or kind of shoulder length hair my entire life. During my grade school years, my mother cut it herself into a ‘Pixie’. Also known by it’s other name, the Moe from the Three Stooges hair cut. I graduated from the pixie into the Tennille from Captain and Tennille, which led to the Dorothy Hamil which got me all the way to the decade of the curly perm and red hair and outrageously sized shoulder pads.
I started growing it out about 10 years ago. It’s taken a LONG fucking time to grow. I might have cut it too short a couple times in those years, but for the past 5, I have had very length removed. Now, while I still don’t consider my hair all that long, it’s pretty fucking long for me. Last weekend, I caught a glimpse of the side and back of my hair and though, ooooh…fuck yes…that is gorgeous.
What the fuck?
I don’t think shit like that about myself.
I want to, though. I’d really like to feel good about who I am no matter what I look like at any moment.
And this is where I have to recreate shit. I had 5 kick ass ways to completely dig who you are. The first one listed here wasn’t number one on the original list, but it’s the only one I remember..so it’s been bumped up to the number one spot.
1. Don’t fucking compare yourself: Okay, and this is a completely random example, Linda Hamilton in Terminator II. If you think you can live 5 decades, being unhealthy and overweight for two of those decades and you still think if you just work hard enough…you could still look like Linda Hamilton in Terminator II , then you need to let that shit go. Sure an argument can be made for ‘it’s not impossible’ but be realistic here. It’s HIGHLY unlikely. That does NOT mean that you can’t get into amazing shape with kick ass muscles and an ass that isn’t flat and is gravity defying. Of course you can. But do you know how many people actually get to look like Linda Hamilton in Terminator II? One. Linda Hamilton. Again, that was completely random. I have never wished I looked like Linda Hamilton. I wanted to look like Sarah Conner.
And this is where I really DO have to fucking rewrite shit. I thought, fuck it..I’ll just find it..plug them in and we have us a blog post. But I really DON’T have it anymore. So, here we go..made up shit on a slightly boozy first night of a four day weekend.
2. Find SOMETHING to celebrate: There is ALWAYS something to celebrate. There is something to be grateful for. I’m willing to bet that every person who reads this blog post has a roof over their head and clean drinking water. It’s all fucking uphill from there.
3. Give yourself the top shelf prizes: Even when I reach a goal or grow a muscle that I can’t stop feeling up, I still don’t give myself the top shelf prizes. I get the prizes that are on the bottom shelf between comically large pencil and the over-sized bouncy balls. Next time I am getting a big Sponge Bob that is bigger than 3 of my 4 grandkids. I’m honestly not sure what the prize is yet. Maybe it’s just to be proud of myself.
4. Don’t wait: until you are stronger or smaller or faster before you change the way you move. That shit does not matter. So what if you come in last. Who cares if you can’t get through MOST of the obstacles on the mud run. DO IT ANYWAY. Get all muddy. Come in last. It doesn’t matter. You’re still doing better than sitting home and rewatching Lost or the X-Files.
5. Don’t give up on your appearance: This has NOTHING to do with looking good for men. Besides, we all know that’s bullshit. We look good for other woman which is just as fucked up. You know it’s true. You’ll look like the crypt keeper with hairy legs in front of your husband or boyfriend, but no way those bitches at the grocery store are going to see that shit. Decide to look good for you. Feel good about yourself. Look in the mirror and appreciate that face. It’s all yours, you might as well love it.
There you have it. Motivation to accept who you are.
As I said, I’m really not there yet. But I am getting better all the time. I might have developed the teeniest crush on myself.
Also, in the interest of honesty, there were actually SEVEN items on the original list.