Less Than. . . .Family

 General, Less Than  No Responses »
Aug 082022
 

What do you do when you don’t fit in with your family? I was born into a family of thin folks with stick straight hair. And here came this little chubbo with very curly hair. No problem. She’ll outgrow the fat stage by 3 or 4. Then we can work on that hair! We can wait it out. Then she’ll look just like the rest of us. Didn’t quite happen that way. And that set up a horrible family dynamic.

My Mom Was Delusional

I like to joke that I would have been the first switched-at-birth case if they did that way back when I was born. Except for one damning thing. . . my face was my Dad’s. If it were not for that resemblance, I swear they would have tried to give me away. There was no way he could deny me. In fact, another joke of mine to cover some of that hurt is that if he ever went to court and told the judge I wasn’t his, he would be arrested for murder as the judge would die laughing. But my Dad wasn’t the problem.

My Mom seemed to think she deserved to have beautiful blonde, light-eyed children. . . that was her mother’s coloring. But she had dark hair and eyes, as did her father and my father. Doesn’t bode well for making blonde, light-eyed kids unless you get some recessive genes whooping it up in the background. One of us has dark hair and dark eyes. I had dark auburn hair and medium-to-light brown eyes. . . . but they were still brown. Didn’t count. And let’s not forget about those curls that she dutifully tried to stick down at every turn.

A Hurt Kid

So here came my less than childhood. I knew my Mom didn’t like me much. She knew I knew it, too, and it made things awkward. As soon as she figured out I was gonna stay fat, she started dragging me to diet doctor after diet doctor. Obviously, none of it worked. Some of it may be throw-back genetics, but some it was the fact that when I figured out what was going on I sabotaged myself. Yep, I said myself. I thought I was hurting her, but. . . kids don’t think straight, especially when they’re eating cookies under the covers at night.

And Now A Damaged Teen

Somehow I managed to grow up. By my teens, I positively hated my looks and, therefore, myself. I starved myself in high school on a bet from a classmate. I won the money, but I got sick and I only stayed that small for a New York nanosecond. Luckily, I met a man who loved me for ME and not for my pants size. I never believed him. I mean, hey, you have to believe your mother, right? She would NEVER lie to you. But he stuck it out with me. It’ll be 50 years this month.

And Then A Damaged Adult

Did all of this color my perception of life? Oh, hell yeah. My Mom passed when I was 61 and I still believed her right up until she took her last breath. I was fat and ugly. My husband tried to tell me differently, but I believed her and not him. I’ve been fortunate in that something. . . I still don’t know what. . . started changing the way I saw myself. All of a sudden I could look in the mirror and not hate the face staring back at me. I’m still working on that, the total acceptance part. I’m doing a LOT better. Will I make it before the end? Film at 11. . .

Your Turn

This is my story. If you have a reason you don’t fit in with your family and/or they weren’t too kind about it, please talk about it in the comments or in a post. It helps to get it out. How do I know that? Been there/done that/bought many tear-stained shirts.

Last Word

It doesn’t have to be fat. It can be ANYTHING that makes you feel less than. Education, financial circumstances, appearance, marital status. . . . ANYTHING or ALL OF THEM. If you feel you fall into the LESS THAN category, please start working on it NOW. Why? Because. . .

You are enough. . . And you are enough RIGHT NOW!!!!

Why This Morning’s Image

 General, Thoughts  2 Responses »
Jul 092022
 

Welcome to This Morning’s Image! Why is this blog called This Morning’s Image? Let me explain and I’ll try to take it one step at a time.

 

A Little History

I didn’t have the best childhood. Let me say right up front that I was NOT physically or sexually abused. I know many were. But. . . I had a more unique problem. My mother didn’t like me. She just didn’t. She wasn’t a bad person, per se. She liked lots of people, but not her eldest child. Why? I wasn’t what she wanted is the only reason I can come up with. I looked like the wrong side of the family (my dad’s) and I had curly hair in a family of folks with stick straight hair who lived with a perm rod permanently installed. But worse than that, I was fat and did not lose my baby chubs before kindergarten. And it got worse from there. Can you guess that most of my family was slim? I joke that had it been possible back then, I would have been the first switched-at-birth legal case as they would have sworn I wasn’t theirs. Except for that little nasty problem that I looked just like my dad. 

So. . . she didn’t like me. I was always told I was fat, ugly and good for not much. Nobody would want me. Many different words, but she said them all. I knew she didn’t like me and she knew I knew it. It made for quite an awkward childhood. They tried putting me in dance classes, getting me into sports, half starving me. Guess what? I was still the roly-poly one. And once I figured out what was going on, sadly, I added to the problem. I spent my allowance on food which I ate under the covers at night. I was gonna show them! The only person who got more miserable from this was me.

Well, I made it through. My Grandmom was my biggest supporter although she hated that I was fat. She was a 4’8″ size 2 (maybe). Her idea of a diet was to not eat any desert in the week after Christmas and you would ditch the five pounds of cookies you gained. That’s how it worked for her and the rest of them. Didn’t work for me. When I was probably well into my 40s, Grandmom piped up one day with, “Do you think you’ll be normal once before I die?” I looked at her and shot back, “You better plan on living forever, you old bitch!” Yeah, shocking, I know. But Grandmom was a tiny bully and if you cowered under her withering words you were done for. My family was shocked that I would speak to her like that. She laughed so hard she almost broke her ribs. I was honestly blessed with a Grandmom for 51 years. She was my biggest supporter, even in a backhanded way.

And Then One Day

I had gotten married and my husband simply never cared about my weight. He still doesn’t and we will be married 50 years on August 31st. In our marriage I have been anywhere from 150 pounds to 350 pounds and I can honestly say his love never changed. Yes, I know I’m lucky in that respect. I’ve seen the Jerry Springer episodes about, “My wife weighs 104 pounds and she’s a fat cow!” 

I attended seminar after seminar back in the day, both for work and for personal edification. And one day, I heard a lady speaking about not waiting any longer. She said. . . and I am paraphrasing. . . “Most women are waiting. They are waiting until they lose weight. They are waiting for the right man. They are waiting to finish their education. They are waiting for one more child. They are always waiting. So until whatever aim is achieved, they don’t give a damn about themselves. They schlep from pillar to post not giving themselves any love.” And then she said the words that slammed me back into the chair. “No matter what you’re waiting for, you need to dress the body and make up the face that you woke up with this morning.” Thus, This Morning’s Image was born.

Not The Right Time Then

Well, I ran and bought the domain. I just knew I could teach women how to do this. Right. I couldn’t even teach myself. But wait. . . they were worthy of love. I wasn’t. So my approach wasn’t working and my initial enthusiasm went by the wayside. I let the domain name go. It was a distant memory. 


It IS The Right Time Now

Sadly, it took me until I was 61 and my mother passed to get hold of myself and shake a knot in ME. Slowly, I’ve been learning about self-love and the fact that I’m not fat, ugly and good for not much. Well, I’m still round, but. . . my current size 14-16 is just as worthy as any size 2-4. I am enough. And I am enough RIGHT DAMN NOW!!!!

Come Along For The Ride With Me

If you’re up for it, come along with me as I learn to love myself. My 70th birthday is fast approaching and I intend to be a whole person by then. No more self-hatred. I may never reach the heights of self-love that some folks have, but I’m gonna be running a close 2nd.  We can help each other. I found out that even skinny girls. . . you know, the kind society loves. . . hate themselves. I was in shock and I’m not being sarcastic. My warped brain figured all those “perfect” women experienced was lollipops and roses.

Now I know better. ANYONE and EVERYONE who has ever felt less than is welcome here. I will be bringing in some guests writing about being too skinny, too, and less than for many other reasons.

LET’S GO!

It’s time to start loving ourselves the way we should. And I’ll let you in on a little secret. If you don’t do this for yourself, nobody is gonna do it for you. 

Self-love. It’s where it’s at. And it’s for ALL of us, regardless of weight, marital status, education, living arrangements, you name it. 

IT’S FINALLY OUR TIME!!!!