Print perfection has been a hot topic for a major part of my life. We see it everywhere. Photos are retouched: double chins erased, cellulite smoothed, dark circles lightened, waists trimmed and thigh gaps increased. Consider it like digital spa treatments and imagined circuit training. These are unrealistic ideals that we cannot attain. How am I supposed to measure up to that? I’m a 34 year old with the metabolism of a hibernating bear. In addition, I have a three year old who is looking for the party at 1 am. I’m practically made up of cellulite and dark circles.
Month: October 2016
The Struggles of an Eternal Optimist
I am an optimist. An Eternal Optimist. Corny translation: I’ve got sunshine on a cloudy day. I try to see the silver lining of every cloud. I could continue with more cliches but you get my point. This doesn’t mean that I don’t have bad days, but I try get over them quickly.
I will forever see the good in someone even after I’ve been burned. I guess, to some people, that makes me foolish, but I don’t feel that way. I don’t just hope for the best, I expect it.
Island Girlfriends
I was always a tomboy. Growing up with a brother who pushed my limits, I always felt the need to compete. My brother, Sean, is 3 years my senior and I looked up to him and wanted to be just like him. If he climbed a tree, I had to climb higher. If he rode his bicycle, I had to ride faster. I didn’t always succeed, but I tried. My mother would try and try to no avail to keep me in a dress and inside the house playing with dolls and tiny china sets. I wanted none of that. I constantly fought the double standards and my parents soon learned that I was an equal opportunity child. If Sean did it, why couldn’t I? After many scraped knees and broken bones, I think they were resigned to the fact that this was me.
The Control Freak’s Guide to Toddler Life
Raising a toddler can be complicated. Most days, it’s a lot of laughter. Other days, I don’t know if I’ll make it through the day. I’m a control freak, so naturally it’s challenging to have a 2 year old version of myself. I guess it’s just poetic justice.
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