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Mirror, Mirror

Mirror, mirror on the wall,
who is the fairest one of all?
Is it the one over there, that skinny girl
or the one with the curves who should give the title a whirl?
Does it go to those wearing the latest brands
or those from the thrift store stands?
People who embrace their “natural beauty”
or those who wear make up as if its their destined duty?
Those dressed nice and straight laced
or those who take trends and happily deface.

…

Snow White you say?
Are you sure your opinion does not sway?
What makes her so special?
Her beauty is not so pure!
She sleeps with 12 men
and never goes outdoors…
(If you argue, take a look
at her skin which is as white as paper in a book)

No. I should not be crude.
My self worth is not based on how she is viewed.
Insulting her does not make me happy
it just makes me seem crabby.
No amount of name-calling will that change
I can only assess the problem in front of me, this issue I estrange

How dare you say I am not beautiful, not the fairest?!
You have no proof on that, I do suggest.
More than that, I know you’re wrong,
In my mind and heart your words do not belong.
I am beautiful, I do declare.
Your opinion, forever more, I do forswear.

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Window Seat? No thanks…

All my life I’ve been the tallest chick in the room. Sometimes it goes unnoticed but i’m generally not easily camouflaged

greww

Always in the back for pictures so I don’t block other people, Always asked if I played basketball. I’m tall and that is a widely known fact.Until today I did not really think of how that affected my movement through the spaces within my life . While sitting in the dining room with my roommates, we talked about how we’re all tall so we tend to kick each other under the dining room table. Now let me define tall. I’m 5’10, my other girl roommate (photo’d above in the smiley face tee) is 5’8 and her boyfriend is 6’2. The average woman in the US is roughly 5’4 while the average man in 5’9. So it’s safe to say we are some pretty tall people.

Now generally I can go about my day without noticing this obvious fact about myself. Other times I can’t. For one, I wish my seat in my car could move back further. Don’t get me wrong I love my 08 toyota corolla but sometimes Pierre just doesn’t seem like he was made for me.

pierre

Talking about window seats is what really got me thinking. Now generally when I get on a bus or in a car, I hope to get the window seat because most days I enjoy the view. With time though i’ve started to reject the window seat as my first choice. If I sit by the window and by chance someone sits beside me, i become confined to this little corner for however long this ride will last. For me that is almost torture since I have to change the position of my knee every 10 minutes or so to avoid pain in the joint. This entire problem can play a significant role in when I decide to travel. Sometimes I will catch a flight to Myrtle Beach to visit my best friend but if there are no available aisles seats for the day i’m flying, I will completely change my trip schedule in order to ensure i’m not stuck in the window seat for an hour and a half. The same problem occurs on the bus. If there are no available aisles seats, I will gladly stand for the rest of the trip.

Thinking of these small daily obstacles I encounter also makes me wonder what it must be like to be short in our society. I’ve witnessed on many occasions people unable to reach things in public places. One time my co worker used the plastic mat that they busboys stack our cups on to knock over the stack far in the back so they would be within arms reach. There are so many little things that have to be altered in our daily lives if we fall out of any of society’s norms.

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The Internalized Body

I have to say, there is something incredibly inspirational about some of my classmates. A majority of them seem to be very comfortable and open with talking about bodies. It’s amazing how some people have this ability to say what they feel, and not only that, but say it in such a way that is full of sincere conviction.

This is not something I have, which is why these posts are such a nightmare for me.

I am the internalized body. I am the churning and stewing of the abstract held together in skin. I’m bad at voicing things about bodies at all. Who am I, anyhow, to even have an opinion on someone else’s body? Or to have a general thought at all? The internalized body doesn’t think this way, no, it is far more concerned with eating away at its own guilt.

The good thing about the internalized body is that it can live off its own energy. Far too concerned with the inner demands of self-regulation, constant calculation and extreme analysis, this body comes off aloof and unaware to other bodies. Unless, perhaps, this body dares to compare itself to another body leading to a subsequent re-analysis.

The internalized body is a shell that doesn’t leave room for leakage. It’s a product of its environment, no matter what the substance is inside. This body is never going to let you in on a fear or a worry. No, this body is wound snug. If one thing gets out, the mess will follow, so its better to keep it all in. This body is here to please and protect. It’s a paradox of looking the part on the outside while keeping the true body on the inside safe.

I wish I could be that true body. That fearless, open, wonderful body. I wish I could be the body that moves and shakes, dances and achieves, doesn’t aim to please and doesn’t mind to offend.

Alas, I am the internalized body. And I need to keep it all in.

 

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“Table for one, please” “Waiting for someone?” “No”

Why is it so wrong for a body to be alone during a meal time? Why does a body have to be around other people during meals? It might seem strange but I have always enjoyed the occasional “out to eat with myself” for breakfast lunch or dinner.

One time I went to Waffle House for breakfast, since my boyfriend isn’t a morning person I decided to go alone. When I got there the perky little seventeen something hostess asked how many. I said one. Her demeanor changed from chipper to confused, to sympathetic as she led me to my corner table. As I was ordering she asked if anyone else will be eating breakfast with me for the second time I said no, just me. She asked me why go out when you are not meeting anyone. I replied “I enjoy eating by myself from time to time. Then I don’t have to worry about meaningless small talk or comfortable silences. It is some time for myself” after my  little chat with her she left me to get my pancakes I pulled out a book and started to do homework. I got my food, she refilled me coffee more times that I needed, I left her a nice tip and I left.

I don’t understand why a person needs to eat around other people all the time. It may be a pack mentality, where we need to strive for a sense of belonging as we down greasy burgers and french fries.  I have no idea why eating solo was a big deal for my waitress that day but it just got me thinking why we view someone as lonely, sad, standoffish, bitchy,or depressed when they choose to have some time for themselves.

Whew, well that felt good to vent.

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Retarded.

My sister is mentally retarded. I’m not sure what the ‘politically correct’ term would be for this these days. I’m pretty sure it’s “mentally handicap”. Retard literally means to slow down. At the end of the day that’s a pretty accurate description of my sister. She is 24 years old and has the mentality of a twelve year old. She isn’t stupid by any means. She just got slowed down. My 6-year-old son and she are such good friends. I fear the day he intellectually passes her.

petergriffiin

Let me explain a little more about her condition.

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I am a female, a leader, and a good leader!!!

I never wanted to get to this conclusion, but I kind of did! Being a leader is hard, and being a female leader is even harder! I think is important to keep in mind that this statement  and believe can be seen differently. In other hand it is really important where ( company, country) you are a leader and who are you working with. Some female might never experience this, and some might…

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Clean Cut

A conversation the other day between my boyfriend (Zach), his dad (John), and his grandfather (Pa) really struck up my curiosity about male facial hair. Being a female I don’t necessarily understand the terms that come with the whole ordeal that is facial hair. The conversation was basically John insisting that Zach needed to shave off or somehow “clean” up his beard. John does not have any facial hair, he keeps to the standard of being “clean cut.” So to him being clean is not having any facial hair at all. Pa was siding with John in that Zach needed to “get it clean.” Pa was a face full of hair. I’m of course sitting there stunned as to what all this exactly means. I’m pondering the use of double standards, why the hair needs to be “controlled”, and where all these “rules” came from. 

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