It's Hard Out Here for a Bitch...
Fall is my absolute favorite, favorite season. And it has nothing to do with the fact that corporations choose to cover the world in nasty pumpkin flavor/scent at this time of year either. Seriously, artificial pumpkin is hella disgusting and you need to keep it away from me. What I love, is the awesome weather, the gorgeous colored leaves against sunny blue sky and BOOTS!!! Fall clothing is the shit: Boots, cozy sweaters, hot jeans, boots, NFL t-shirts and hoodies, scarves and OMG - Boots!! However, I’m bumming a bit this year because I have a lot of clothing in my closet that I still can’t fit into.
My weight gain over the past two years is not mysterious. It rarely is. I opted to lead a pretty sedentary lifestyle, wasn’t mindful of my diet and I drank on a regular basis in the evenings to blot out a job I had grown to hate. None of those things tend to lead to a call from Shape Magazine to do a cover shoot. I’m not obese, but my cute oversized sweater is no longer oversized and because of the society we live in, I’m feeling a bit ‘less than’ and like I can’t really enjoy my wonderful fall and season of Scorpio like I used to.
But that’s bullshit, right?
I walked the dog this morning and listened to my old iPod from some years back (obviously) and I listened to an old playlist. I was suddenly transported to 5 or 6 years ago when I was listening to this music - jamming out to it, first with my roommate and best friend, and then later on my own when I lived solo, before the Englishman entered the picture. BFF is a fellow Scorpio sister and also shared my sentiments on the season. We listened to this music, drank wine, had dance party, talked each up and talked each other down off the ledge when necessary. When we needed a boost, we had it on a daily basis since we were living together and we didn’t realize how important that constant shot in the arm was until she moved out and in with her boyfriend and we didn’t have it anymore.
Without that dose of Girl Power that was always available when needed, it’s easy to let the outside world and its unrealistic expectations, judgements and Photoshopped ‘reality’ start to seep in and leave you feeling unworthy. Less than fucking perfect. That was the song that did it for me this morning, Pink’s ‘Perfect’ caused me to tear up and wonder why **I** was so mean when I talk to myself. I’m 43. Technical youth is far behind me. And maybe I don’t look exactly the way I want to or have the money (yet!!) that I want to, but is that any reason to feel like an asexual, invisible, unworthy person? That’s the dumbest thing ever and if I heard any of my friends or acquaintances disparaging themselves based on that criteria, I would be forced to bite them.
I know this is a rambly post, but I wanted to get this feeling into words and it’s been WAY too long since I’ve put anything up anyway, so this is happening. It was just a bit of a shakeup - wasting time focusing on feeling that I’m lacking when I should be happy I can still dance and sing and enjoy the hell out of a sunshiney fall day like this one and the eight gorgeous days that have preceded it. It’s hard to remember that message sometimes, but today I’ve recommitted to it. It’s hard to keep working out when the results don’t come as quickly as they did 5 years ago. It’s hard trying to feel cute when you’re growing your hair out and right now you kind of look like Odell Beckham Jr. It’s hard to understand why vodka has calories when it has no taste. It’s hard out here for a lot of reasons, but I have to remember my favorite line from Lily Allen’s song: “Forget your balls and grow a pair of tits, it’s hard out here for a bitch.”
I’ve got tits. Big ones. I think I’m going to make it.