Kathleen Claypool's Blog

One of the major conflicts I have had in my life is in looking at the amount of times I moved growing up. I never finished at the same school I started at. 3 different elementary schools, 2 different middle schools, 2 different high schools, and now 2 different colleges.

First, I’d like to talk about the positives. I can make friends anywhere I go in absolutely any situation. By moving so often, I learned how to be adaptable while still maintaining who I am. That is a skill I feel a lot of people lack these days. They grow up in the same small town and never learn how to be socially flexible. Also, I learned to make it work regardless of where I was. I’m sure that in my future, it is possible I will end up stuck in an apartment I hate because the rent is low or in a town I dislike in order to sacrifice for my future family. In moving so often, I learned how to be happy without letting my setting influence me too much. Along with learning how to be adaptable, I have met some of the most amazing people. I have friends all over the world at this point and wouldn’t have it any other way. Granted, it is hard not being able to see those who I love the most all the time, but it is great to be able to share our experiences and stay in touch. You learn who your real friends are when you are away from them. With moving so often, I also have seen more than I could’ve imagined as a 5 year old bumpkin growing up in West Virginia. I have had the opportunity to travel the world and experience different regions in our own nation. I think this has been extremely important in shaping who I am as a person as well as influencing my own views of the world.

The negatives. As I touched on briefly in a previous post, I miss my family. Everyone lives in West Virginia and I am missing out on watching my little cousins grow up. I also feel like a bit of an outcast when I go home. I am so removed from what is going on there that when I return, I feel like a stranger to some of them. People who took care of me as a child and have watched me grow into a woman seem like complete strangers. It is incredibly sad to feel that and know that I have grown up too differently from some of them to rekindle any kind of relationship. I hate that I am missing out on my grand parents’ final years as well. When my grandpa was diagnosed with cancer, we went in as often as we could for his last 3 years… but it just wasn’t enough. I remember sitting at his funeral and thinking about how while he was suffering, I was off playing hockey, going to school dances, or breaking up with my most recent fling. I felt empty and like I failed. I don’t ever want to feel that again. I have four grandparents left (don’t bother asking why there are four… it’s confusing), and I’m afraid I’ll be in the exact same position when it is their time. Every time I visit, I am shocked at how different they look and how long it has been since I was last there to see them. I’ve gone as often as I can, but the last time I visited was in August. That is just too long.

I was raised to seize all opportunities presented to me and to go for things regardless of where I have to go or who I have to leave behind. I believe 100% that this is why I am so independent and capable of living on my own, but I have to wonder what I have lost in being apart from my family. Roots are important. Mine are all in West Virginia. In moving so often and being removed from my home since I was seven, I have lost the tie to a home. I can’t really say I have a home anymore. So many people I know have spent their entire lives in one place, or at least until they were 18. When my parents go back to WV, they know everyone, everywhere we go. Sometimes, I really wish I had that in a place. I wish I had more of a home.

I’m not looking for sympathy. I love the life I have led and I had an amazing childhood full of happiness and education through opportunity. I just wonder sometimes what life would have been like if we had stayed in West Virginia with everyone. Would I be closer to my family? Would I have a home? Would I be who I am today?

I’ll never know.

The two posts below were added in the last 24 hours and I also put up a new song called, “Animal.” Check it all out!

Everyone has an opinion on this topic, so I guess I’m going to write mine here. Aaliyah said it best with, “age ain’t nothin’ but a number.”

I feel for whatever reason that over the past six months or so this debate has become ridiculously popular with people I’m around. Once I turned 21, I had the weird realization that there was no longer anything in society prohibiting me from dating a 50 year old man if I choose to do so. There is something weird about a 19 year old dating a 22 year old because of the issue around having a drink at dinner or going to the bar with friends. When I was 19, my ex-boyfriend turned 21. It sucked and was incredibly awkward when he would go to the bars every weekend with his friends and I stayed on campus. It caused a big separation socially speaking. Now that 21 has been reached (surprisingly… and without any drinking tickets ha!), it seems that there is nothing in the way of dating anyone anymore.

So why is age such a debate? To me the things that matter in a relationship at any level are respect, passion, and communication. Once any of those pillars are lost, the relationship will inevitably end at some point. If I met someone who is 45 years old tomorrow and felt that they could support those pillars, felt a connection with them, and they made me laugh… I’d give it a shot. Why not? I have never really been attracted to boys my own age for numerous reasons. First, maturity. I am not saying I am the role model for a mature 21 year old, but it seems to be a common thought that girls mature at a faster rate than boys. My friends and I often joke (but seriously) that in order to have an equal in terms of maturity, we need to look in the 30-40 range. I think another reason I am completely opposed to dating someone my own age at school is because I let a relationship ruin my first college experience. This is my second chance and so far it has been amazing. I would never put myself in a position where this could be destroyed because a relationship turned dark. In order for me to even think about dating someone at this point, they need to be completely removed from my college scene for that reason. Also, I am an outgoing, often brash woman. I don’t have time to play coy games with people and hope they like me. It seems (sometimes) that older men are over the games as well. No bullshit. They know what the deal is and don’t want to mess around either.

So the controversy… I get why people frown upon large age differences, but it seems judgmental to me. I don’t have daddy issues, I’m not looking to gold-dig, and I’m not insecure searching for an older man to make me feel good. I have a great relationship with my papa. We are friends and  have a good understanding of each other. I certainly don’t want to gold-dig, because I plan on being able to be financially independent for my entire life if I choose to be. I am secure in who I am and don’t look for confidence through attention from men. Plain and simple, I just don’t like the immaturity of college kids and tend to see more eye-to-eye with older men. There is no reason for that to be judged. It is just the way it is. In a debate a few weeks ago, someone pointed out that it would be awkward if my partner had a sister older than me, but younger than him. Why? I don’t see how that is awkward. My older brother is dating a girl who is younger than me and I adore her because she makes him ridiculously happy. They treat each other well, have a healthy relationship, and are always smiling when I see them together. Why the hell would I have a problem with that?

When discussing my opinion on this with my Mom, she obviously didn’t oppose my view point because she supports me in my choices, but said that if I want to be with someone older, I need to be prepared to handle baggage. Good point, Mom. That doesn’t bother me, though. If someone can deal with my “baggage” (although I don’t consider it baggage at all), then I can deal with theirs. Everyone has something in their past that can hinder a relationship, but if the connection is enough, then it is enough. Maybe I am being idealistic in my view on this topic, but I just don’t see the big deal at all. I am happy and think if I am lucky enough to find someone cool to share my happiness with, then it shouldn’t matter how old they are.

Sing it Aaliyah… Age ain’t nothin’ but a number.

This post has the potential to annoy a lot of my readers, but once again… I have promised complete and total honesty on here. The picture to the left is of myself and my cousin aka my mini-me. When I was growing up, I looked up to my cousin, Sarah, for everything. She taught me how to put on makeup, do my hair, shave my legs… everything. She was my idol growing up. Even though I rarely got to see her because we lived in different places, she was like a big sister to me, and still is. I still look up to her and go to her for advice. I was a bridesmaid in her wedding and know that she will be my matron of honor (if that ever happens!) I feel that I am playing the same role in my cousin, Bunny’s, life. Whenever I go to West Virginia to visit, I know she is excited to see me. I only wish I could be more of a prevalent figure in her life.

My parents were in WV this weekend because my dad’s band played in a fundraiser show on Saturday night. My mom sent me pictures and video of Bunny and her sister, Addison, that made me burst into tears. The little baby I remember so fondly is turning into a girl. I freaked out completely. She was wearing makeup, had her hair done cute, was wearing trendy clothes, and it hit me how much I am missing out on by not being there. I love this kid so much and wish I could be the metaphorical big sister to her like the one I had while growing up.

So by now, I am guessing you are wondering why I think people may be annoyed by this? Well…. here it is. Brace yourself.

I want to have kids in the future.

I know…. right? I have said since I was like 7 years old that I would never have kids and the only way I would is if I could adopt them. I finally realized that it is not kids I hate, but rather their parents. I hate the parental mentality of treating your children like royalty or trying to be the “cool parents.” My strategy will be to guide my children towards making the right choices, but ultimately leave it up to them, which is the way I was brought up. Also, creating a balance of friendship and being a parent. I have seen friend’s lives destroyed because their parents wanted to be their friends and give no boundaries, but I have also seen the other extreme of people missing out on life because of over controlling parenting.

Obviously, I’m looking far down the road on this post, but it is something that I finally understand and realize I want to be a part of my life. It’s kind of crazy to have that revelation. Truthfully, I think I will be an amazing mom. I feel like I get the whole idea of parenting (even though I know anyone with kids is cracking up right now). I think I will implement the Frank Zappa approach. He told his kids they can do any drug they want, as long as they do it in front of him and their mom. He raised his children to make the right choices without telling them what to do.

I think the thing that freaks me out the most about being a mother in the future is actually being pregnant and giving birth. Besides the fact that the doctors told me I could be bedridden for my third trimester thanks to my back injury… I just can’t get past the idea of pushing a bowling ball out of my vagina. Sorry to be so blunt, but really?! That just doesn’t seem okay to me. I mean, things just can’t ever be the same down there after something like that. Eeeeeek (shiver).

That isn’t the reason why adopting seems so interesting to me, however. I feel that there are so many children in the world without parents and I know I could give any of them an amazing childhood and life full of opportunity. I don’t care if my kids look like me and I don’t really care if I adopt them at 3 months old or 3 years old. This is what I am conflicted over. I know I for sure want to adopt at least one child, but I also do think there is something special about giving birth. It is one of the greatest gifts of being a woman and I can’t imagine a better feeling than producing life. Then comes the question, would the adopted child and other child have a tough time?

Oh life, you bitch, you. This has been a frequent topic of discussion among people I know, lately. I think as we get closer to entering this “real world,” everyone keeps referring to, the future seems so important. I mean, this week I finalized my post college plans. WHAT?! I legitimately had a mild panic attack afterwards. I’ve kind of been floating through college just livin’ the life and lovin’ it. Now all of the sudden, I am for sure moving to Chicago with my best friend post graduation and working there. The funny thing is that we joked about doing this all through high school. We both, originally, went to Vermont for college and it seemed like we would never be separated. Being away from her now only makes me realize how important she is in my life and how much I want to live with her while exploring this adulthood thing.

Total change of topic… prepare for whiplash. Chicago. I spent 7 years of my life growing up there, which are arguably the most influential years in youth. I learned to drive there, had a lot of my first experiences there, and have fond memories of everything. Whenever I drive through it, I feel like I am home… and then I keep driving to Wisconsin. I have always known I wanted to head there after college because it has everything I live for. The music scene is amazing, the cubs clearly need my luck on their side, the bears need my presence, and I dig the lifestyle. I know I need to live in a city but I kind of definitely hate New York City and don’t want to slip into the L.A. scene. Many of my friends have migrated there from high school and I seem to be making new friends from there all the time. I have gone with a friend for the past two weekends down there and had more fun there than I’ve had in Madison all year. We are basically depressed every time we hit the highway to return to school. I feel trapped here, which sucks because I KNOW I would be 100% happier there. Grrrrr! Don’t get me wrong, I dig Madison, but it is wearing old on me fast.

So what have I learned this week? I want to have kids at some point, and I know for certain that I will be moving to Chicago as soon as possible. I guess that is pretty epic for a random week in March.

Suddenly, my following on here has kind of exploded. I’m not sure where all you cats are coming from, but I hope you are enjoying things. Any feedback is always welcome via facebook, email, text, carrier pigeon, etc.

Also, check out my song! It took a lot of balls for me to finally put it on here. I hope you like it.

The Jonas Brothers are a fraud. I was just on Chat Roulette for the first time and was starting to think it was extremely lame considering the amount of guys just looking to have internet sex. Then after about 45 minutes, the Jonas Brothers were matched with me! No joke… I have two witnesses. The three of them were all dressed up and asking where we were from. Then they said they were getting ready to go party and it was their first time on the website. Then… Nick told me I was wearing too much and should take off my shirt. PURITY RINGS MY ASS! Damn posers…

Moral- don’t let your little girls watch the Jonas Brothers! They are frauds and dirty men!

I know recently I have shifted gears to writing more about my opinions on things rather than my own personal stories or experiences. I started this project to grow, heal, release what I was going through by writing, and to provide a resource to help other women experiencing domestic violence. I have received several emails, messages, and notes from girls I have never met who read this blog regularly because they relate to what I’ve gone through and find relief in knowing that someone else has been there. It makes me beyond happy to know that I can provide a little bit of hope for other people going through this.

Here’s the thing… I am at a point now where it feels like a dream. It seems like so long ago, I have been so far removed from it, and my life is so different now that it almost seems like it didn’t really happen. That scares me. I am terrified that I will forget the signs, the warnings, the feelings, the moments that changed my life forever. By using my experience to help others, I am at a place where I need to cling to the original feelings that drove me to be strong and survive. I work for a violence prevention program at school and was perusing the website today. I found a list of warning signs of abusive relationships. I feel it is important to post these because when I was reading them, my jaw literally dropped. I can check off every single bullet point that is listed when looking back. I wish I had resources like Wisconsin offers its students when I was in Vermont. Instead, it was more or less pushed under the rug and I was forced to leave. Anyways… I am not posting this to accuse you of abusing someone, or to say that you have been abused. I am posting it to say that these are true. I have lived it and experienced every single point. Also, it makes it easier to recognize abuse in relationships your friends or family may be in and may help you to know how to handle it. The signs are…

-Your partner demonstrates ownership of you, or possessiveness, and/or often says things like “I can’t live without you,” or “you are my whole world.”

- You feel like your partner tries to dictate your behavior, privileges, or responses and opinions.

- It seems like your partner blames you for his/her problems or behavior.

- You feel like your partner tries to isolate you: s/he doesn’t allow you to see your family or friends, needs to constantly know where you are, or expects you to spend all of your free time with him/her.

- Your partner does things in public to embarrass or humiliate you.

- Your partner criticizes your appearance, weight, clothes, etc.

- Your partner angers easily.

- Your partner seems to be jealous of your children, family, friends, or job.

- You are nervous or afraid of ending the relationship because of things your partner has said.

- Your partner is violent toward other people.

- Your partner is violent toward pets or other animals.

- It seems like your partner has a dual personality (e.g., charming in public, aggressive in private).

- Your partner blames most or all past relationship problems on his/her ex-partners.

- You feel like your partner has no regard for your physical or mental health.

- You feel like your partner is overly attentive: s/he showers you with gifts or seems “too good to be true” early in the relationship.

- It seems like your partner gets attached too fast — s/he professes love when you have only known each other for a short time.

- You feel like your partner never listens to you or respects your opinion.

There are several other warning signs I would list, but I don’t want to personalize it too much. These may seem silly to read or obvious, but if someone had handed me this list two years ago, I would’ve freaked the fuck out when I realized he matched every point.

Keep your eyes open, be smart, don’t rush into anything, and stay healthy.

Never Settle.

Music has been one of the main factors in my life that has shaped me into who I am. I can say the same for almost all of my friend and my family. It is what moves me, inspires me, changes me, helps me, saves me. It is everything.

So, I must ask the question… what the fuck happened?!

Why are spectacles the most popular, highest paid, “stars,” that tweens look up to. Since when did dressing like a complete freak, having little to no musical talent, or being a total mess make you a music star? To me, it is an insult that these people are called musicians. I prefer the title of entertainers.

So who are these folks that I am disgusted by? Well, I am sure by now the name Lady GaGa has popped into your head. The thing here is that when I’m at a bar hanging out with people, sure it is fun to hear “Poker Face,” and bust out a move, but it is not music that evokes emotion in me. It is entertaining, but not music. Then there is the musician that this devil beast has brought down to her level, Beyonce. Beyonce is a talented, beautiful, hard-working woman… and she is releasing complete and total shit. Trust me, just go listen to “Video Phone.” I don’t get it. She could be making amazing music and infusing her soul into every note. Instead she is putting out this half-assed, “popular,” shit.

Shock will always sell. I get that. Some great musicians have been shock artists… but they were musicians. It was part of the act and enriched the music that they performed. David Bowie’s  androgynous nature was shocking to many, but I love it. I LOVE it. I think it is phenomenal and makes him a better artist to listen to because he’s talented, interesting, and sexy.

Then there is Frank Zappa. I will not say in my opinion, but rather just make a down right statement that cannot be disputed. He is the greatest musician to live. He explored every single genre and dominated every style. He challenged himself in ways that few people can, inspired musicians everywhere (specifically my father), and maintained his character in doing so. Frank never sold out to this shit, which admittedly may have hindered sales, but soooooo what? He was Frank. He said what he wanted and had the gumption to play what he wanted. He assembled bands that were comprised of the best musicians in the world and were flawless. It is even said that Frank was the first rapper. Seriously… he did it all and did it well because unlike these modern assholes, Frank respected music. He lived for music and gave it what it deserved for providing purpose to his life.  He also recorded every live show he ever did. Years after his death, albums are still being put out and will be released more than likely for the rest of my life. His passion has shifted to his children’s lives. Dweezil, his son, now performs a concert called “Zappa Plays Zappa,” where he plays his father’s music. It is marvelous, nostalgic, and emotional. The irony of it all is that I would say MAYBE 5% of my generation know anything about him. It’s a shame that his brilliance is being lost in the societal push for the spectacle.

Taylor Swift. Where can I start? The girl is one of the least technically talented singers I have ever seen sell millions of millions of albums. I literally learned one of her songs on the guitar in a few hours. She utilizes the simplest strumming patterns, a very limited vocal range, and little personality on stage to sell millions to every teenage girl in the nation. I get it, though. I will say, I down right understand this phenomenon. I don’t personally like her music because I find it repetitive, unoriginal, and ridiculously simple, but I kind of respect her. I just don’t respect what the industry is pushing her to become. I think it is great to see someone who doesn’t have a tremendous amount of talent succeed not because she is slutty or hot, but because she is passionate. She has lived for music her entire life and writes most of her songs. I respect the fact that she has something to say, so she says it. My problem with her is that the industry wants her to be a super star and become something she is not. Giving her an MTV award for best female song, performing at the Grammys and blowing it, and doing shows such as Saturday Night Live. She shouldn’t be there. She shouldn’t be doing those things. She needs to stay rooted firmly to her passion and keep sharing her thoughts. On the bright side, however, she is a new age role model for teenage girls across America. In my hay day I only had girls like Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, and Jessica Simpson to look up to… a coked out skank, an overly sexual thing, and a fucking idiot. Taylor Swift is right along the same talent level of these pop stars, but at least she seems grounded, family oriented, clean, and acts like she really wants to do what she is doing. I say, lighten up on the girl and take her for what she is… a simple songwriter.

Save the best for last. Lady GaGa. Straight up…. the bitch can sing. She can belt notes, has a wide vocal range, and has got some soul. So why does she have to freak it up? I’m down with being yourself, obviously, but removing yourself from society that much is ludicrous. The girl wears panties to the super market. I think that the way she acts and dresses reduces her music to dance floor garbage. It is clear why she does this, though. If you do a little research, Stefani Joanne Germanotta (her real name), was an up and coming musician with mousy brown hair, a rather large nose, and a mildly plain look. The albums didn’t sell. The scene didn’t happen, so what does she do? Produce a show… a spectacle… an act. She is demeaning her talent and it is a shame the world will miss out on someone who could have made some killer music, just because she has to be popular, cool, and shocking.

I want to live in a world where talent is appreciated and popular as opposed to the act that produces shitty music. Death to the spectacles and Life to the musicians.

Sometimes you just need to read a good quote to get you going.

Albert Camus: “You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life.”

Susan B. Anthony: “Independence is happiness.”

Jimi Hendrix: “When the power of love overcomes the love of power the world will know peace.”

Frank Zappa: “Take the Kama Sutra. How many people died from the Kama Sutra, as opposed to the Bible? Who wins?”

Marilyn Monroe: “It’s better to be unhappy alone than unhappy with someone.”

J.D. Salinger: “I’m sick of just liking people. I wish to God I could meet somebody I could respect.”

You’re Welcome.

This post is going to be profane and rageful. If this does not interest you then stop now. I warned you.

I fucking hate humanity. Why you ask? Let me tell you a little story about Kat’s Thursday night.

I decided to be a good kid. I decided to get my shit done. I decided to stay home instead of going out. I worked out late and finished up around 10 pm. I showered. I started working on a paper due NEXT Friday (holy shit for not procrastinating!). I had the Russia vs. Slovakia men’s hockey game on my tv and watched Hossa lead Slovakia to beat those commie bastards. 1 am. I hear a lot of loud noise coming from down the hall. The next thing I know, someone is trying to knock my fucking door down for an extensive amount of time. Me, being the badass I am (total sarcasm)… tell them that I am calling the cops. Clearly they fled.

1:05, the cops show up. Search the whole building, talk to me, tell me everything is going to be just fine. They left. About 10 minutes later I’m on the phone with my mom crying about how shook up I am, then they are back. The fucker starts pounding on my door AGAIN. Needless to say, I grabbed a knife, sat in the corner, and dialed my friends at 911 again.

The cops show back up and search the whole building again. Mr. Po Po says, “You should go stay with a friend hunny.” Ugh. So I call up my trusty friend at 2 am. She walks over to my apartment, where the psycho is roaming, to come get me. Awesome friend. Especially considering the fact that she is 20, had been drinking, and had to sit in the lobby waiting for me… with a cop haha.

Ugh. I am so fucking sick of having to deal with asshole, violent people!! Hello prick- I have dealt with this shit before. I am not going to let you in my apartment because I am scared. I would rather die fighting some bastard like that than allow them to fuck with my life.

RAWR!

I guess this is the part where I say sorry for ranting aimlessly, but I am not. I should not have to live in fear. No one should. That is the entire reason why I left Vermont. The only difference is then, I had someone who I had loved terrorizing my life. Now, I simply have a stranger fucking with me. I guess that’s a step up?

I don’t understand why people do the things that they do. I would never think to try to break into someone’s apartment. I have never had a violent thought in my life other than in times I have had to defend myself. I just don’t get it.

I guess that is why I work for the VIOLENCE PREVENTION PROGRAM!

Bitches.

Grrrrrrrrrr……….

I am sitting in a coffee shop waiting for my bus to get here to take me home for the night. Clearly I can’t stay in my apartment tonight. Obviously I am in no mood to go out and drink. Luckily, my dad will be in Madison Saturday night to go to the Wilco show, so I’ll have him around.

Perhaps I should put a sign on my door…

“I will fucking kill you if you even think about breaking in here. I will literally fucking destroy you. Have a great day!

With tender love and care,

Kat”

For a brief 2 minutes I let myself slip a little. After the first attempt to bust my door down, I was on the phone with my mom and was a mess. It wasn’t that someone tried to break in, but rather that the event triggered memories. I felt weak, like I did then, and helpless. I felt like it was happening all over again and it was going to be the same result. Then, when the fucker came back again, instead of feeling weak, I got damn well pissed off. As scary as it was, it is kind of great to know that instead of being afraid, I took charge and was ready to fight back. Perhaps that alone shows the progress I have made over the past year and a half.

Meow.

I think after something terrifying like that happens to you once, you lose the innocent thought of, “this can’t be happening to me.” I, luckily, have a different thought in times of fear now. It is more like, “Ugh… this shit again. Fuck. Time to call the Po-Po.”

I think the amusing things out of the evening (because there is always something amusing) came when faced with decisions. After calling my friend to stay at her place, I had to decide what I wanted to bring incase he did come back and break in. I grabbed my computer (without the charger), a water bottle, a bra (because I was in my pajamas… yes I talked to three cops while wearing an under armour shirt sans bra), my wallet, my biggest ipod, my phone (no charger), and a pack of gum. The pack of gum and water bottle crack me up. Why the hell would I decide those were really important in a desperate time?

There was a weird coincidence in the matter as well. I have two under armour shirts that are for breast cancer. On November 16th, 2008 (yea that night), I was wearing one when I had to talk to the cops for what seemed like an eternity. Last night, I had on the other breast cancer shirt I have. Kind of weird. I think the moral is, don’t wear a breast cancer under armour shirt, because if you do, someone will attempt to break in (and maybe succeed), and then you will be talking to cops all night.

I have to go catch a bus. If I didn’t I would probably keep rambling incoherently on here. I am sure at this point no one is reading anymore. If you are, CONGRATS YOU GET TO READ THIS AWESOME CLOSER.

Guns don’t kill people. I kill people.

Have a great day!

My horoscope today is:

You’re a chic girl, but obsessing about your body isn’t healthy. Work on the things you can change and learn to love your little flaws. They’re what make you uniquely beautiful.

Bingo!

I also found this article today on foxnews.com:

http://www.foxnews.com/slideshow/entertainment/2010/01/08/v-magazines-size-issue-features-plus-size-models?test=faces

It is a photo slideshow of beautiful, curvaceous women and discusses how natural bodies are becoming trendy again.

I have never been a teeny, tiny, itty bitty girl. I have had big, muscular thighs and a booty since I started playing hockey when I was a child. It is easy as a young girl growing up in high school to aspire to have the “dancer body” meaning 5′9″ and thin, thin, thin. Why want to be something you are not?

This may come off as conceited, but that is not my point. My point is that I am comfortable with my body and have learned to love what I have. I am always going to be 5′4″ unless I shrink to be 4′8″ like my great aunt. I will always have big, “child bearin’” hips, and I am always going to have some bodacious ta-ta’s. Little, lacy tops just aren’t an option for these DD’s. Wearing leggings without something covering my hockey playin’ ass isn’t going to happen. Big fucking deal!

I would rather have curves than be a stick any day! In my previous post, I outlined the negative aspects I saw in the VM due to the sole focus on the vagina as representing womanhood. I feel my womanhood is represented through my strong thighs, boobs, and natural curves. This does not mean that you have to be curvy to be beautiful, however. I think that ALL, yes ALL, women’s bodies are beautiful in some way. I only wish every woman, girl, mother, sister, and daughter saw this as well.

I believe in being healthy above all else. I have always had a more muscular, athletic style body because of my athletic background. It would be weird and unnatural for a hockey/ lacrosse player to be waif-like. Since my hockey days have ended, my body has completely changed. I’ve lost weight, dropped two pants sizes, and formed an hour-glass shape as opposed to the old box of muscles I had. To be honest, it has taken some time to get used to the new me. My body became more womanly and I freaked out a little bit. There are times I really miss my old biceps and times I miss the serious thunder-thighs, but as long as I am healthy, I am happy.

There are women who are just naturally built with bigger frames. That does not make them unhealthy. What I see as unhealthy and unnecessary is when you see the big belly hanging off an otherwise beautiful woman. It isn’t because they are “fat” that they are unhealthy, but because of the strain this puts on their heart. Six packs are rare to come by. I certainly don’t come close to having one, but I am healthy. I cannot emphasize that word enough. Figure out your BMI. That shit is telling.

It isn’t about losing weight and being skinny. It is about getting your ass off the couch and walking for an hour. It is about eating fruits and vegetables. I believe the best diet ever created is the food pyramid. Seriously, no one else has come close to depicting what the human body needs in order to be healthy. The two rules I live by are drink water all the time and moderation.

Moderation is so key to life. I love chocolate. I always have and always will. I don’t eat a candy bar everyday, however. I allow myself one treat of chocolatey goodness each week. I love red meat. Hamburgers, steaks, etc. Love them. I allow myself that every once in awhile. I don’t believe that cutting these things out all together is worth it. Food enriches life, but needs to be approached like anything else that enriches life (sex, alcohol, sun exposure, etc.). Caution.

I have never, in my entire life, seen a woman and thought that they had the “perfect” body. There is no such thing. If you can look yourself in the eye in the mirror, respect yourself, appreciate and love what you see, and know that you are healthy/ happy, then you’ve got it figured out. Everyone has flaws, but it is silly to focus on them. I mean, I hate my feet. They are identical to my father’s feet and are increasingly fucked up from having broken all of my toes throughout my hockey career (and then shoved in skates to play). I mean, seriously ugly feet.

So what? Why focus on that when I could focus on the things I love about myself?

People can tell what you choose to focus on without ever saying a word. I can walk into a bar and tell immediately if a woman is confident in how she looks or not. Shoulders back, head up, smiling… confident. Shoulders slouched, eyes focusing on the other women’s bodies, looking aloof… not so confident. Confidence is beautiful. Loving yourself is beautiful. Smiling is beautiful. It isn’t the amount of makeup or hairspray that makes you stand out. It is how YOU see yourself. Although properly applied makeup and beautiful hair can make a big difference probably because we feel sexier and more confident when we know beyond a doubt that we look damn fine.

I feel like I’m suddenly writing for some women’s magazine with my last two posts. I have two pet peeves that have been the focus of this post and my previous post. The first is when women think that by renouncing common, healthy practices such as wearing tampons, visiting the gyno, and shaving, they are suddenly feminists. Along with that, the idea that in order to prove they are feminists, they must hate men and point this out constantly. Ugh. My second pet peeve is when women constantly bitch and whine about their flaws. I don’t want to hear it. If you are the most unfortunate looking person on the planet and weigh a ton, I would rather hear you say that you love your beautiful eyes than complain to me about your flaws. Everyone is slightly insecure about something on their body. Chances are someone has looked at you at some point, however, and thought that they would kill to have your lips, eyes, nose, tits, stomach, arms, nails etc.

Be healthy and love yourself.