Good Enough.

Confidence has been a life long battle for me. It's this deep rooted hatred for my body. It's a disgust for every inch of my skin. It's picking on myself. My flaws consume my thoughts. And I just feel gross.

In elementary school I was the brunt of the "fat" jokes. Whether it was at school or on the bus, I couldn't escape it. To this day, the comments haunt me.

In middle school, a boy followed me down the stairs and out to the bus, taunting loudly, "fat. fat. fat. fat" in front of everyone.

Those kids pointed out my flaws as if I didn't already see them. They called me names as if I didn't already call myself worse.

When I go to the place that I've been suppressing for all these years...it's painful. Revealing this is painful.

Picture a sweet, innocent elementary aged little girl sitting across the aisle from her crush. Filled with butterflies, she hopes he will talk to her. His best friend, whose sitting with him, asks her to stick her hands out in the aisle. She's confused but does as he asks. He proceeds to point at her tiny hands and laughs... "See, I told you she has sausage fingers."

Her crush begins to laugh. She's humiliated. But she has to sit there...right next to them...as they take turns saying awful things about her body. And when she gets off the bus...and as she's walking to her front door...she wonders if life would be better if she wasn't a part of it anymore.

I can hear those words... as if it was yesterday. Because that beautiful little girl was me.

I haven't shared that moment with anyone. Because I don't like to revisit those old memories. But I think it's necessary, in the healing process, to deal with old demons and put them behind you.

Sometimes I still struggle with accepting myself,  but I'm working on it. It's a process, and I know that one day I'll get there.

Present day me finally feels GOOD ENOUGH. Everyday I come a little bit closer to fully loving my appearance.

I wanted to share this life event with you, because I want you to know that everyone has a weakness. This is mine.

I used to be a bit damaged. But I think I'm coming pretty close to a restored version of myself.

I've learned through this experience that flaws are gorgeous. It's those flaws that separate us from being ordinary. It's those flaws that our future lover will fall completely in love with.

Do me a favor? LOVE YOUR BODY. Just the way it is... because I love you.

Be who you are. Love who you are. Live who you are.

EMBRACE the YOU right NOW. Don't change. Grow. Don't search. Create.

In this great life, YOU are what is great.

Hey, we're in this together. So, what are we waiting for? Let's ROCK IT!

A personal story, that probably isn't too far from YOUR heart.

When I was ten, I lost my uncle to a heart attack. At eighteen, I lost my aunt to complications from cancer. They entered Heaven eight years a part. And there I was, losing her eight years after I lost him, and the pain? Well, it felt the same. .

At first, you can't believe it's even real. The pain overwhelms your body, and it's so deep that you eventually become numb. And your mind won't stop repeating, in complete agony, "why?"... Your heart aches as if asking the question itself. It's as if you're completely empty. Almost like your heart is under construction, being torn and prodded. Eventually, the piece that your loved one used to hold stops functioning. And though they continue to occupy that place in your fragile heart, it becomes inactive. Leaving you with no choice but to move on and learn to live without it.

They're gone...and sometimes we forget. Just the other day, I saw a girl that looked like my precious aunt. My eyes lit up, my insides hopefully waited, anticipating the girl to turn around. It's as if I'd tricked myself into thinking when she did turn, I'd see my aunt's face. I'd see her uplifting smile. I'd hear her joyful laugh. I'd feel her positive presence. The girl turned around. And it wasn't my aunt. And deep down, I knew it could never be her. But knowing that didn't stop the disappointment. My head lowered, and a tear trickled down my face. Consumed in sorrow, that day was a bad day. It was one of those days where I couldn't get her off my mind. And I kept trying to make reason of why that scenario was so real to me. Why did I actually think she was still on this Earth?

After much pondering, I came to this conclusion...

There's a little bit of my Aunt Lesia in all of us. She's the happiness that a cancer patient exudes when they've  made progress after that first round of chemo. She's that contagious laugh that your best friend has. She's the person that asks how you're doing, when they themselves have hit an absolute rock bottom. She's the patient who the doctors say will never recover...and then, against all odds, recovers....smiling through the whole process-- showing that miracles do happen. She's the comfort in a bad day. She's the person who can forgive someone, when they've done the unforgivable. She's the woman who becomes close to God, even if He's given her countless reasons to doubt Him. We all know people like that. She was mine. And I miss her--every...single...day.

My advice to you, my friend, is to find purpose in your loved one's death.

 I am the person I am today because I lost two people who meant the world to me. God may have taken them away from me. And at times, I feel cheated because they're not here. But I've gained a whole lot of wisdom and strength from experiencing the loss of my best friends. They taught me to appreciate life. They taught me that breathing doesn't always mean you're living. They taught me to fearlessly take on any challenge you're given and to always listen to your dreams.

If it hadn't been for them, I wouldn't be writing to you right now. I just want you to know, that it does get better. No, the pain won't fade...but you will eventually find peace in their passing.

I pray that your sadness will subside. And I pray that your heart will heal.

In this great life, everything doesn't always make sense. That's when you start having to make sense of it yourself.

** Uncle Jim and Aunt Lesia, I hope I'm making you proud.**

Something Borrowed

So, Something Borrowed is my all-time favorite movie. And there's a part in the movie when Dex's dad gives him advice on a sticky situation. He says something like- the problem with what we want is that it often goes against what's right. And you know, this couldn't be more true. 

Think about it. What does society say you're supposed to do? If you're a girl, and you're 25, then you should probably be finding a man and settling down. Hurry up and get married. Then, hurry up and have a child! Then, hurry up and have another one. Because your prime child bearing years are almost over. 

Our culture defines establishing a career, falling in love, getting married, having children, and raising those children as the correct order of business. And most of us follow this pattern. Because it's accepted...it's considered "right". 

Hey, I'm not saying that's wrong. Some people have those values. Some people want those things. But there are also some people who want to go on a different path. And those people often tango with society....being unfairly labeled. Whether it's "the one who never grew up" or "the guy who's too in love with his career" or "the girl who decided to chase her dreams instead of a man and is currently living in a different country, childless". Society deems going out of order deviance. Why? Because if we can't define something or categorize it, we freak out. 

Individualism is beautiful! And even though what Dex's dad said is kind of true, it shouldn't be that way.

 People give up what they want. Why? They're scared....because following a path that's not yet been traveled is risky. So, instead of going for it, they follow that pattern of life. Rolling with the motions and giving up what they want, because they needed to do what was right. 

I feel the opposite. I feel like what I want is what's right for me. It may not be right by society's standards. But it's right by my standards. And that's all that matters.

I will never give up my dreams just because my biological time clock is running out. 

There are so many people who sit down after a long day and wonder, where did my life go? My direction? They look in their children's eyes and think, "you're the best thing that's ever happened to me." But they look in the mirror and say, "When did I become this person...why did I stop dreaming?"

The beauty of it all is, it's never too late. I realize that I'm generalizing here. And I'm not saying that I don't eventually want to be a wife and mother. I'm just saying I won't follow society's timer. I can adopt at age 40. I can find my soul mate in the nursing home. Dramatic? Maybe. But how can you make a rule in a world full of people who are not the same? 

The point is don't let society's clock pressure you into settling. DON'T EVER SETTLE. Do what's right for YOU.

You don't have to be an extremist here, but you do have to follow your heart. I don't believe you should ever stop dreaming no matter how old you are. I think the day you stop dreaming is the day you stop grasping everything you can out of this great life. That's a sad day. Don't ever have that day.

Have you ever been to Burger King and ordered fries...and when you got those salty, delicious masterpieces...you find an onion ring? Like, seriously...an ONION RING!! Jack-pot! 

In this great life, I want to be that lone onion ring in the container of fries. What do you want?

Who's the hero?

As a child, if someone were to ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would have answered, "a princess, like Cinderella." 

The movies told me that if I'm in distress, a man will magically come into my life and solve all of my problems. But somewhere along the way, life reminded me that Cinderella was just a movie, and I was just an ordinary girl.

As  I grew older, I stopped watching animated fairy tales, like Cinderella, and instead began watching romantic comedies...Lifetime...Hallmark....Nicholas Spark's inspired films...you get the point. And my dream of being Cinderella turned into a hope of finding my other half. No matter what, I vowed to always believe in true love. 

When I entered high school, I thought I would finally be worthy of my movie moment. I silently walked the halls, hoping for that perfect guy to find me. 

But my moment never happened...he never showed up.  I was surrounded by friends who would tell me about the romantic date they had, or this guy who likes them, or the awesome way they were asked to prom. I was so happy for them, don't get me wrong. But part of me always wondered, and sometimes still wonders, why I never deserved that experience. 

It was a Friday night and I was at home. I was in my bedroom, jamming to my Taylor Swift CD, and I remember hoping that my prince charming would knock on the front door and profess his love to me. I imagined him asking me out on a date...in some cute way. As juvenile as that sounds, part of me still wishes that would have happened to me. Because... there was never a knock. There was never a date. Not even to the prom. And eventually, I stopped believing. 

Sometimes I wonder, though,  if things would've been different--would I even be writing to you write now? The pain of my past is why I write. The rejection. The heart break. The hurt. It's taught me that you have to be your own hero. Fairy tales do exist. But sometimes, it doesn't have to involve a prince coming to the rescue of a princess. 

Sometimes, it can be a girl who retired her dependence on finding prince charming and instead found independence, when she fearlessly moved away from home to a big city and made a life on her own. A girl, who once stopped believing in herself, eventually realizing her true strength. A girl, once scared of sharing her thoughts, now exposing her vulnerability. A girl who is writing to the world right..now. 

So, maybe I did get my fairy tale after all. It may not have been a story book ending. It may not have been a movie moment. But it's mine. My story. My ending. My moment. 

No, I'm not waiting for a prince anymore. I'm just proving that it's possible to do it alone.

Making the first move

You like him...so now what? Making the first move is hard. I've always been one to expect the guy to initiate conversation and show interest first. But, I've come to realize that doesn't always happen. Maybe he's shy. Maybe you are, too. But if you are attracted to him... I say- go for it! 

Rejection is a scary thing. Trust me, I've had my fair share of "no's". Usually I find out the cutie I've got my eye on has a "girlfriend". (Sigh...) And I'm kind of being a hypocrite here-- because I find it terrifying to make the first move, when it comes to guys. 

I mean, I'm still an old-fashioned girl at heart. The ideal situation would be him, asking me out first. But guys these days can be a tad wimpy. (no offense guys) And I totally get it. Heck, putting yourself out there is no small feat. But I think I'm tired of the waiting game. 

So, this week I vow to take my own advice. There's this guy in one of my classes. And to be honest, he seems like a total sweet heart. Not to mention he's completely adorable. (Best smile award!)

Hey- if all else fails, I can accept a simple friendship. See, this great life is full of opportunities. And you can sit back and wait for them to come to you-- OR you can fearlessly accept them-- like a boss. 

Here's to making the first move! 

And hey-- if it doesn't work out with "said guy"...it's totally possible he's related to Gerard Butler. And in that case, rejection would be SO WORTH IT! Can you say dream come true?

Hooray for V-day...or not?

That time of year again. I'm sure you're expecting me to ramble on about why I'm not "in love" with Valentine's Day. But I'll spare you the agony of complaining. 

Instead, I'm going to just give you the facts-- 

STRAIGHT UP FACT OF THE MATTER

• I'm single
• I look forward to my annual teddy bear and chocolates from my mom
• Yes, I consider this a "free day". (By that I mean a hot date with Ben & Jerry and my all-time favorite, sappy romantic comedies.) 
• Happy couples give me hope
• Reminder that if love doesn't work this year, there's always next
• When the date doesn't go as planned (or just sucks), it makes for a funny story to tell your friends
• The youngin's are passing out there little addressed V-day cards to their classmates right now. (heart warming)... and admit it-- you miss that. 
• The single and lonely finally voice their unhappiness. Hence, blaming V-day for the annual reminder that true love hasn't found them yet. 
• Movie worthy moments happen on this day. 
• Corporations get richer $$
• Butterfly feelings, galore!

This day is kind of a toss up for me. My relationship with Valentine's Day? Love/hate. That's how I would describe it.

For my single readers': Don't be bitter. You're still beautiful...and AWESOME. One day, you'll find your someone. (If you want one). On the bright side, less than 24 hours until it's over! Hug your family. 

For my happily- coupled readers': You're so cute! Congratulations on finding what us single folks desire-- the "right" one. Don't get too blind sided by the flowers and the candy... don't compare teddy bear sizes with your friends...just enjoy the love you are lucky enough to have. 

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!

You're a Firework!

Monkey Bars and Cotton Balls

I met my best friend, Megan, at the monkey bars. It was Elementary school, second grade, and a funny story. 

See, I was a pretty chunky youngin'.  And I wanted to glide across those monkey bars- so bad. Everyday at recess, I'd be at the monkey bars, holding onto that first bar...trying to make it to the second one. (didn't usually happen)

I practiced, everyday. So much so that blisters formed on my small hands. But I kept on trying. Day after day. 

One day, Megan was at the monkey bars, too. I'd never met her before. And this is how we became best friends:

Me: "I'm not really fat...these are just cotton balls under my shirt" *points to belly*
Megan: "Really?"
Me: "No, I'm actually just fat."
Megan: "Oh, okay."
Me: "Want to be my friend?"
Megan: "Yeah."

And the rest is history. Twelve years later, we've maintained that friendship. Megan is that one friend that I can say-- I've been through EVERYTHING with. Our friendship has survived petty arguments. It's survived a big move. It's survived long distance and piled high obligations. 

We've lost a few family members along the way. People that meant the world to us. But through those hard times, we had each other. We've always been there for each other. 

Not many people can say that they've remained in contact with their childhood friends. Well, we can. And we've not only maintained contact... we are still- to this day- best friends. She's seriously a sister to me. Her family is my family. My family is her family. That's how it's always been.

I came to college, and then our friendship became even longer-distance. 
I was having a rough day, and I went to check my mail box. I got a package. 
It was from Megan. It was filled with cute little items, and a sticky note attached to each one.

This is the items and what they said:  

A back scratcher: "I will always have your back" 
A dust pan: "sweep away all of your worries"
Cookies: "just enjoy"
Gum: "fresh breath will help you make friends...(haha) or a good first kiss"
Lint roller: "Don't sweat the small stuff. Just let it roll off your shoulders"
Bowl: "Just in case you need to eat your feelings" 
Gold Fish: "Live your life out loud. Go crazy. Don't settle for less. There are plenty of fish in the sea." 
Totally awesome box: "think outside the box"
Vera Bradley change purse (adorable!): "The new Vera Bradley opened in the outlet. My mom picked this up for you."

As you can imagine, I was in tears. Because she's the best. And she knows me like the back of her hand. That package meant so much to me. Megan means so much to me. 

She's got some big dreams. And I know that she will effortlessly accomplish them. She's brilliant. An honors student at her college. A full time student and employee. A wonderful aunt, daughter, granddaughter, and all-around person.

Since the beginning, we've stuck together. Tag on the playground, Camp Crosely, 5th grade basketball...she even accepted me when I was a bed-wetter. I wet the bed until like 6th grade. And Megan didn't even care that I was that total weirdo, wearing a pull-up at age 11. We are true pals. 

This great life introduces us to some great people. Keep in contact with them. They're totally worth it. I hope that one day, or maybe right now-- you're lucky enough to have a Megan in your life. 

BEST

FRIENDS

FOREVER