The Predictable Language of Women

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I’m getting bored with this, ladies. So…so…so bored. Why is it that we have unquestioningly spent centuries putting ourselves last, behind every other heartbeat in our lives, while we let our souls beg for some self-care, yet we egotistically, self-centeredly and BORINGLY talk INCESSANTLY about our bodies?? 

How is it possible for one human to be so selfless, yet so self-absorbed, all at the same time??

Do you know that every single time you talk about your boobs not being big enough, your ass being too big, your belly being flabby, your hair not being long enough, your wrinkles being too many in number…you sound like every single other woman in the world? 

You are engaging in the most predictable, eye-rolling, waste-of-time, snooze-inducing language that I simply have no time for anymore. In all of this vast, incredible, extraordinary, magnificent and miraculous world you honestly can’t think of anything better to talk about??

Here’s the thing: you have a daughter to raise, or a niece that watches you, or a close friend’s daughter that hears you speak. Maybe you’re a coach of a softball team or you are a Girl Scout Troop Leader. Whatever it is, I guarantee there are younger versions of yourself hearing more of what you say than you think. And guess what…listen up here, this is important: you are charged with the responsibility of leaving this earth a better place than you found it. Whether you like it or not, you have a responsibility to the females of this world you will eventually leave behind. You are a role model. Period.

I cannot begin to tell you how many times I have overheard or been in direct conversations with women that talk about the gobs of times they’ve spoken horribly about themselves in front of daughters/nieces/young girls. Worse yet, the times I’ve been witness to the mother/daughter conversations themselves when the mother was talking down so hard on herself I was left speechless.

Let me be clear: THIS IS NOT OK. 

These same women tell me how they now hear daughters/nieces/young girls talk about themselves using the same language they did when talking down on themselves. I listen as mothers tell me about their teeny tiny itty bitty girls talk about how fat they are, how much they hate themselves and “if I could just lose 5 more pound, mom…” (Insert me, on my knees, arms raised in pain and anguish, screaming WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY?!?!?!?!?!?)

You are in pain. Daily you wake up and feel like you’re in someone else’s body. You turn your head as you walk past every mirror. Some days you think you’re doing ok and someone snaps a photo and you look at it and can’t believe you look so horrid. You tried diet number 3,492,823 last week and failed…again. You’re at a loss. You’re miserable. You see no solution to this and the hamster-wheel-merry-go-round of that voice in your head saying the most awful things to yourself just won’t stop…

Why…why would you ever want the young girls in your life to repeat this?? Because they will, you know. If you have a young girl in your life that talks badly about herself out loud, can you even imagine what goes on inside of her head??

I’m chubby, you guys. I have a belly (that created life). I have flabby arms (that built more than I could ever have imagined). I have a giant ass (that sat comfortably as I rocked my daughter to sleep at night). My thighs jiggle when I walk (and have carried me to places I never dreamed) and I pretty much have the physique of a potato (I love mine mashed, fried or baked…with extra toppings, thank you very much). Do I wish I was thinner? Yeppers. Do I wish I could commit to being healthier? Certainly. Do you think I don’t get down on myself for not ever being able to just do what I know I should do?? You betcha. But when my 13 year old daughter asked me the other day if I thought I was fat, followed up with the question of do I like myself, a never-ending litany of why I love every single part of being me fell out of my mouth like a bouquet of the most exotic flowers you would ever want to see. When I saw that look of “OK. I thought so. Just checking”, in her eye, I was satisfied. She knows we all struggle, because we talk about it. She knows that she will struggle, because we talk about it. She also knows that she’s worth loving herself because she simply exists, and she also knows that she has to love herself more than anyone else. I have taught her that you have to love yourself more, so that you have leftovers love to give to others. 

I do not want my daughter to be a foregone conclusion. I want her to be her own strength and her own kind of hero so that she can pass that on to her friends and someday, her own daughter (or son). 

Join with me, ladies. Make a stand and mark today as the day you decided to quit being so predictable in your language. Wow me with the unexpected. Run me over with your spontaneity. 

More than anything, I want to piss you off so much that you make it your new mission to prove me wrong. #idareyou

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