Big, busty, beautiful

So as of late I have been having a battle of the flubber. But then again I think everyone in the 20 something and plus is having that issue. I have always had this problem because no matter what I’ve never felt comfortable in my own body. In adolescence we imagine ourselves at our peak of perfection but let’s be honest here. We had zits, hair in weird places, our body changing with parental units to uncomfortable to mention what the hell is going on.  In High School I had a never ending war with a pair of tweezers and bras. I was kind on my own with this one. My much educated mother told me, here, this one will do.  I just put it on unable to process what I thought to be giant globs of fat sprouting from my chest.

In high school I was either “too fat,” “too thin,” “too loud,” “too rebellious” or really ‘too’ anything. It took me many a year afterward to realize that all those “too ____” is every self-conscience person projecting their fears on too me and using me as their personal flogging pole. But half way through the high school I really just stopped giving a shit because I really had bigger fish to fry. As I got older, the fish got bigger. Until I hit about 25 then, weird shit started happening. I lost my give a shit button and became once again over self-conscience, gawky, hyper wigged out teen. Like some sort of mid-life crisis before I even hit my mid-life period.

No matter what size my chest is people are still going to find a way to be jealous of it. Not because they are somehow magical but because they have problems with their bodies. Not only that but they are most likely projecting those anxieties on to me. As they do with everyone around them. And as I discovered working with consistently self-conscience red head it WASN’T just with me. She was unhappy and spiteful to everyone around her. Even though it affected me at the time; I am beyond giving a shit. FAR beyond.

But today, I was doing my makeup. I was feeling sleepy even with my extra strength cup of coffee and some nice fresh bread drizzled with honey as I was watching the sunrise slowly creep over yonder sky line. My eye brows were perfect; I had covered a small break out on my chin and blended it to perfection. I took another sip of my coffee and choose my color palette for my eyes which a nice light, work friendly, mocha riche with a hint of shine. Some power to set and little lit of blush to bring some color into my face. I dawned a wee bit of bronzer to accentuate my eyes. Time total? Under 15 minutes. In school it took me three times as long and nothing on my face was perfect.  

Now, I’ve gained a weight and a nearly triplicate of bust. Seriously there are some days where I think that all of it went to my boobs but that’s besides the point. My body has changed and I’m choosing now to get weirded out now about it? I’ve decided that it’s bullshit. The only vision of myself I should have to worry about is how I feel about myself. I looked in the mirror today and saw I was beautiful. AS for the weight, as long I can I do all the same things I could when I weighed less like jumping, dancing, running, long walks and boxing; why does it matter what weight I am?