First of all, a gigungous thank you to MizFit for inviting me over to her place.
Can’t even TELL you what a big fan I’ve become of that hot ass in a very short time; I just love the whole fitfunnyhealthprincessparty vibe over here. So, when she asked me to guest post, I immediately thought to myself, EXPOSED!
Because she did it, and it was badass, and others have done it, and it’s was badass, and I heard Miz asking around to see if anyone else would join in on the badassedness, because it was just so badass to get out there and love on ourselves for who we are.
And when I asked her what she’d like me to write today, her only requirement was that my post be air quote dripping with my voice end air quote. Since my brand of ‘voice’ is pretty raw and of the tell-it-like-it-is variety, I just figured why the heck not.
I mean, I can tell stories about sharting, admit to having queefed in a yoga class, discuss the ebb and flow of my libido whilst referring to myself as a Dancing Monkey and whip my pants off for all the blogosphere to see in order to send them to a shrinking dieter in need so what the eff is so difficult about taking a picture of myself in my underwear and appreciating the hotness that is my body? I mean, right?
Well, let’s just say I may have found my Achilles heel.
Words are easy for me to whip up. I love ‘em more than my luggage. I’ve never been good at drawing or sculpting or pottery. Not one for staying in the lines when I’m coloring. Even my penmanship is pretty horrible. But give me a laptop and a dictionary? I will stay busy for days pouring my soul into wordtastical works of art.
But after snapping the first set of pictures of me in the semi-nude and sitting down to decide what I wanted to say about my fabulous self, I found that I was actually speechless. Speechless! And not in a good way! Because all of the stuff about me that I actually kind of like, I couldn’t see in the pictures! I mean, WTF? Where was the snark and the wit that makes up my ‘voice’? Or that audacity that allows me to publicly use words like fingerbang or dickpunch? Where was that uncanny ability to make inappropriate jokes at inopportune moments? All that stuff that kind of defines me! Why can’t I see that in the photo?
It must be because I took the first round of snaps when I was bloated. I mean, who takes semi-nude pics a few days before TOM flows into town? Must be covering up the good stuff. So I waited a few days and tried again.
And again, I searched for me. Where was the passion for cooking shows and bad reality television? The devoted and homesick BFF? The hopeless romantic that loves chick lit and fancies herself to be one heluva fantastic lover? Where’s the absent-minded, tail-chasing, mediocre on the best of days momwife who feeds her kids chicken nuggets and Fruit Loops for breakfast? (I’m just kidding on that last one. I don’t really do that.)
AND WHO THE HELL IS THAT SQUISHY CHICK WEARING MY MISMATCHED UNDERWEAR?
Yeah. Apparently photos make me a little squeamish.
But I had to ask myself the question: Will the real Mrs. Fatass please stand up?
Because, when I’m hanging out at my blog, creating all this honest reality with my word art, yammering on and on about being comfortable with who I am, hangups and all, am I really exposing the real me? Or am I just deflecting attention from her with all the jokes and four letter words? Am I really the crass and sassy badass I like to SAY I am, or is that person just a character I created? Shouldn’t I somehow be able to connect the dots between what I write and who I see in the photograph?
So, you guessed it. Round Three. This time I vowed I’d use the photo. Now, while I realize I have already pranced around in my undies on the occasional Bloggerhood of the Traveling Not So Fat Pants vlog, really? The last time somebody in person saw me this scantily clad for the first time, it was before age and stress and babies and also there was beer. And that’s what this feels like. Like you’re seeing me in person. Because there’s no act to put on, no character to assume. It’s just you, me, and my uh, exposure.
And when I look at a photo of myself, I just don’t know how not to criticize.
But I guess it’s time to find out a bit about the me I see from the outside, with my eyes.
I had to kind of ease in to it. So the first one is me exposed, yet fully clothed.
Yep. That’s about right.
Okay. Off with the shirt. Kind of like freshman year of college, having to undress and shower in the community bathroom. No problem.
And the whole shebang.
So, still making a few nervous jokes, but also revealing a few real things about me, this is who I am, living in the body I am striving to love and am working hard to take better care of. Inside and out.