I'm Beautiful (Eek!)

Today a friend on my Facebook wall posted a link to this: I've Started Telling My Daughters I'm Beautiful.  This is not a blog I have ever read before, but holy moly did this post resonate.

You see, I come from at least 2 generations of self-image issues.  My Nanny (my maternal grandmother) was unsatisfied with her skin color (too dark--she was 1/4 Cherokee), her lips (too thin), her weight (she dieted into her 70s).  My mom, well, my mom has a long list of things she would describe as problem areas:  eyes too small, a chin too many, a waist too large, hair too frizzy, upper arms she doesn't like.

The truth is this:  as a child there was no one that I loved more than my Nanny.  I didn't see any of those things she complained of.  It just wasn't in my consciousness.  As a matter of fact, when she was wasting away from an undiscovered recurrence of breast cancer in her liver, my cousin boldly stated, "I just want to remember Nanny fat and happy."  Twelve and a half years later, that sticks in my head.

Another truth?  I remember my mom dressing up to go out with my dad, putting on dark lipstick and fancy-ish clothes and I wanted nothing more than to look like her when I grew up.

Truth #3 (this one may sting a bit):  the poor concept my mom has/had of herself did get passed down.  You see, the more she listed her faults, the more I listened, especially when she (and everyone else) said that I looked just like her.  Add to that being a painfully self-conscious child, taller than all of my peers and hairier, too, and whammo! you've got an adult that isn't feeling so hip on her appearance.  Taking a compliment, even from my husband, no, especially from my husband, is painfully uncomfortable.  The little voice in my head is none to kind when it comes to body shape, lemme tell ya'.

BUT.  BUT here's the deal:  when I found out I was having a girl, I was determined to stop the cycle.  For that matter, I also determined that it was important for my sons to feel good about themselves, about women, not expecting magazine perfection.  So I just stopped speaking of my appearance at all.  Problem solved.  Until I read this damn blog post.  I think I may have just stumbled upon a New Year resolution.  Calling myself beautiful.  Out loud.  Even just one time will be a victory.

In that spirit, I give you a picture I took of myself today that I actually like.  It took 3 tries, but I like this one. 

Do you know how hard it is not to make self-deprecating comments and just let this be?  Sheesh.  

Now that you've read about my challenge, my insecurities and my bold attempt to find beauty, do it yourself. Let's start a trend, brought to you by the original post at Offbeat Mama (who has no idea I exist. ..only now maybe because I sent her a message).

That's Croupy! (And I'm Gross)

Colds and croup abound at our house, which means even less sleep than usual.  I gave Elliott a Tootsie Pop for a snack and slept--more than once--in the same spot where the tiniest of the tribe either puked or peed, or both.  Yep.  That stereotype of the mom who never changes her clothes, washes her hair or leaves the house and people (me included) wonder what she does all day?  That just happened here.

When Manny Comes to Town

My sister and nephew visited this weekend.  It is perhaps my favorite in the history of ever to have my parents, my sister, brother-in-law, nephew and my tribe all in one place.  We didn't always get along, back in the day, but since approximately 1999 we've gotten along famously.  I dare say that since 2006 we haven't even had major disagreement.  Shocking, considering our early years.

Back to the subject.  We attempted to get all 4 grandchildren in one photo on Saturday morning to humor my mom.  It was comical.  And cute.  And the stand-out star was the 2 month old.  Who could've predicted such a thing?  Certainly not this mama.  But the pictures I have are of a far less formal occasion.  Cousin bath time.  Notice the blue-eyed beauty didn't feel the need to bathe or even to place her tush on the floor of the bathtub.

The last shot is of her semi-shouting, "Up!"  Notice the boys are not fazed.