Part 2: Confession

Wow, the last few days have been really eye opening.
I am writing about this part of life so that I can overcome or at least control it. I didn't write this to draw attention to my looks, I didn't write it to connect with anyone particularly... but despite the confidence on a woman's face I know the struggle is real. The struggle to live up to what looks strong, healthy and beautiful.

EVERY GIRL HAS HEARD THEY ARE BEAUTIFUL.
The media fills our minds with images of what we should look like while at the same time telling us that it doesn't matter. Social media has videos all over that display the work of photo editors who change the appearance of a person almost completely. At work yesterday (I work with a lot of designers and photo editors) we watched a tutorial that turned a model into a piece of pizza..

I haven't grown taller since sixth grade. I grew curvier-ish. And I was an "early bloomer" which probably explains why I was a large elementary student. Instead of hiding my body from my size I started hiding it because of the change I was going through. None of my friends had boobs, "why did I always have to be the different one?"

Complements started coming my way. At church one Sunday, I distinctly remember a woman who hadn't seen me for a long time tell me that I was like the ugly duckling who turned into a swan. I thanked her because I honestly liked being compared to a swan. As I have thought about it since I wasn't sure if I should have felt flattered.

The boys seemed to like my changing, and I often got mistaken for an "older woman" but that never left me feeling beautiful, instead I became more self-critical.

From middle school to high school I emersed myself in every aspect of school: academics, sports, and clubs. I lived at there, some days I would be there from 5 in the morning and get home around 10:30 that night. Part of me forgot those fat feelings. Well, pushed them aside until cheer uniform measurements came and I would compare my inches to the skinny, beautiful flyer next to me. Fat. I was too busy to dwell on those thoughts too long. I was happy with my skin most of the time.

Cheer tryouts my Junior year

Part 1: Confession

A promise is a promise - part one of my confession.

Disclaimer: I am not writing this for sympathy or praise. I am writing this because I made a commitment to become better.

I am the problem. Me. I am obsessed with who I am or rather what I am not. The previous statement sounds vain and selfish, which it is, though I wish it wasn't.

The summer after I returned home from serving a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints I was diagnosed with depression. It runs in my family and I had been watched for signs for a long time. This post isn't about depression though, this post is about me. Depression is a weakness, but it doesn't define me.

But it does lead to the discovery of the greater problem.

The first time I remember stepping on a scale was in the second grade, Mrs. Anderson's class. I think the school nurse came in and weighed everyone. Afterwards, a group of us were sharing our numbers (after all weight at that time was just a number) but when my numbers were noticeably larger than my peers I felt myself sink back into the shadows... I was different.

I was in the second grade! 

Grade school wasn't pleasant for me. My fifth grade year a redheaded boy moved into the class and I was in love. He sat next to me, rode my bus and he actually only lived around the block from my house. I was obsessed with him and he knew it. He abused it. I knew how to tease with the boys (four older brothers will do that to you), but teasing can quickly turn sour. 

It was late spring, the bus had been warmed by the sun and our driver let us keep the windows down as we drove down country roads. My sister and I were in the seat just in front of the new kid and another neighbourhood boy. They were teasing us and we happily took it. I don't remember everything (it was over 13 years ago) but the next thing I remember is a chunk of hair being pulled from my head by the new kid and then he told me to get on SlimFast because I was fat. 

"Whatever," I shook it off. I was bigger than that. What did he know.... Am I fat? I am fat.

When I see my body all I see is fat.

Confession: not a fluffy blog post.

This is today's Pinterest find.

I have a confession to make. A confession of an obsession that is a double-edged sword.

It. it. it. it.IT. it.  it. it.IT. it. it. it. it. it. it. ME.
After any failed attempts, I am ready to come clean- tomorrow.

Let's talk about Hair.

This is the last picture I had with my long locks.

I have had long hair my entire life... up until now.

I have a mother who is a wizard at braiding. She was ahead of all the trends and would braid so tight that my eyes have become permanently slanted because of it... Not really, my slanted eyes come from Dad's side, and no- he is not Asain. Anyway. I have always had people comment on how beautiful my hair was, it became my identity. My hair also became a shield and a way to keep people from seeing who I really am. I vowed to never cut it, I never even considered it to be downright honest.

Even after I got married I distinctly told Brayden that I wouldn't cut it.

It all happened within an hour.

Brayden was playing softball on a men's team in St. George and I had gone to my parents' house for the afternoon. My sister who recently cut her hair came over and was raving on how healthy her hair has gotten since she cut it. No one coaxed me, no one swayed me one way or the other. I sent Brayden a text, "How would you feel about me cutting my hair?" Before he responded I had called my beautician of a sister-in-law (this is 8pm, by the way), met her at her house, and she had cut it off. 

Before I get too far ahead, Brayden texted me and said that I can do whatever I want with my hair. I knew he would say that. Even though, I was still nervous that he wouldn't like it as much... I don't know why. When he came to the house after the games I surprised him with the cut!

I vowed that I wouldn't regret it, and I haven't.

Every girl should cut their hair at least once in their life. It is exhilarating, sassy and fun. Call me ridiculous, but cutting my hair has changed the way I view myself. I know that people will like me for me, not just because I have long hair.

It's about Marriage. It's about Charity.

Photo: Endless Photography

I love when Brayden kisses me goodbye before he goes to work. The smell of his cologne is left lingering in the room for a few moments after he leaves. My attempts to breath it all in before it fades away nearly make me lightheaded, but I don't mind. I love him. I am starting to understand this "cleaving" thing.

I am a romantic. I never wished on shooting stars, instead when I saw a star shooting across the sky I would pray. Wishes are words released into space whereas prayers take action, prayers are answered. As a child, I prayed for the same three things, one of which was my husband. I didn't know him, but I know I would find him and I wanted him to be blessed.

The designs of my wedding dress were often consumed my notebooks. I fantasies about love and my imagination always daydreaming about the wonders of the future.

Marriage is perceived so much differently in the world now... If a marriage is even considered. Songs about cheating and a one-night stand blast across the radio. Movies are filled with adultery and lust. Tonight I was watching a documentary on J.K. Rowling, her husband abused her... my throat was clenched the whole time. How could that even happen? In The Family: A Proclamation to the World, "A husband and wife have a solemn responsibility to love and care for each other... fathers and mothers are obligated to help one another as an equal partner." It is a sacred privilege that is a lot of work and brings so much happiness.

While I was getting ready for school yesterday, I turned on Spotify and a song came on that isn't like the usual jams we listen to nowadays. It's a song called My Guy, by Mary Wells. Nothing will take her away from her guy or keep her untrue, she is going to be faithful to her guy because she loves him so much. That is how love, should be.

However, I think relationships are built more on the love that you have for someone, even though, that is a plus. Charity is key. Mormons consider charity to be "the pure love of Christ" which carries a lot more weight. Charity is love, but love is not charity. Charity is service, but service isn't charity either. Charity is pure, honest and sweet. Charity brings joy to both the one receiving and the one giving. Charity helps us center our lives on our Savior. Charity from both parties is the key to a successful marriage.

I have been married nearly four months... So I can't support this blog with years of experience, like many I know who will read this. I know there will be and are rough patches in all marriages that need resolving. But I stand by my theory of Charity.