PoeticaL
cluttering the net since 2001

i want a hot ass

Wednesday, Aug. 21, 2002
Since I can’t fuck around on the net at work my entries are severely lacking in creativity. And I feel robbed of my precious introspective time. So tonight I decided to shut up the masses and close my chat programs and talk about some things that have been goin through my mind lately so sort them out and make them look pretty on this fake internet paper.

I have been thinking about my life and more importantly about how I view myself. I have been on this path of dieting. Then somewhere along the way I let my personal life stop me. Meaning the shit that was going on in my house abruptly seemed to always block my path. I got a “fuck it, I’ll deal with it all tomorrow..in the meantime I just want to pout and sit around and whine to everyone about how messed up it all is” attitude. This is really rather disgusting behavior and I started to totally hate myself too.

I know that most of my thoughts are slowly turning around because I have this huge acceptance thing going on right now. And for that I want to jump on top of the happiness quotient factor and just ride it to space and go get everything that I want.

I stood in front of this floor length Joe Boxer mirror I have in my hall closet a few days ago. I stood there naked and raw and freshly showered and my hair all blown dry and just looked. I started at the top of my head and looked at every strand of hair. The naturally curly sections wrapping around the perfectly straight sections and my eyes. The slightly crooked gaze I have. I looked at the pores of my skin, badly overlooked for far too long. I took in my slightly chapped lips, the dark circles of not enough sleep under my eyes. I smiled at myself that fake smile that you do only when you’re trying to see what you look like when you smile. It never quite works now does it? I looked at the corners of my eyes and the amazingly smooth skin of a thirty-something year old girl. I looked at my blue eyes a little too lifeless as they ran up and down the length of my body.

I took in the scar on the back of my leg from when I was 9 years old and fell on a ten speed bike, the bike pedal seriously wounding my nubile fresh white childhood skin. I took in the slight white stretch marks across my abdomen from the stretch of a former safe haven for a baby Bucky. I looked at my shapeless or are they far too shapely thighs. I noticed my skin looking neglected of all that slathering of sweet smelling lotions like I used to do. I noticed my toenails looking all scraggly and only half the polish left. I looked at my fingernails cut rather short and neat but not looking more than anything but average. I didn’t look down at my body but rather into the mirror. I saw the slight crouch to my shoulders and at first my eyes were terrified to really look, to really see. Years of quickly throwing clothes on, too quickly forgetting that I am a woman and only remembering that I only have 35 minutes to get ready for work and throwing on the closest clean jeans and shirt. This day I stopped. Stopped and stood alone in the quiet house listening to it creaking under my movements on the tile floor. I stood and turned and looked at parts of my body I haven’t looked at intentionally for far too long. And I decided the girl that I saw in the mirror isn’t the girl that I aspire to be. Isn’t the girl I used to be. And yet, I wondered prior to the 65 lb weight loss, what did this body look like then. Why am I so ashamed to embrace my body for who I am and what I am.

Oh but my thighs rub together. My ass is too shapely, too round. Too much!!! My arms are not tone but rather beginning to sag underneath with that grotesque wiggle that my only my grandmother could get away with waving to the world. I stood and stared and took it all in. The scratches on my legs from shaving with razors worn out and shared with husband on occasion. I looked at my complexion all sallow and lifeless. I took it all in. And all I wanted to do was cry and go cower in a corner.

Only I didn’t. I said to myself. FUCK THIS! Fuck this feeling. Fuck this hopelessness. Fuck not seeing all of my beauty when I look into the mirror. This is when I quickly donned some shorts and went for a brisk walk. Then came back and drove to Target and laid out $100 for new makeup and some lotions and some razors and some vitamins and some facial cleanser (no more using ivory soap!). And this is when I decided that when I was 21 I used to take care of myself. I used to exercise and put makeup on even if I never left the house. I used to put perfume on every day. I used to be a woman. Where the hell did my right to be a woman go? Who did I give that right up to? My son? My marriage? Where did it go and damn it it needs to just march right the hell back.

Ever since that day. I don’t wear the jeans that are comfortable even though they make my legs look chubby. Because screw that. Screw accepting anything less than looking my best all the time. Even at the grocery store at 1 a.m. buying apples. I started to take vitamins again. I started to wash my face every night before bed. I started to spray my bed with linen spray and light a candle in the bedroom before I go to bed. I started to spend less time worrying about drying the dishes and more time worrying about painting my toe nails so that when I put on sandals instead of sneakers for work…my feet look pretty and I’m not crossing them under my desk so no one notices.

I started to get up earlier and exercise in the morning too. Not just after work. And not just when I felt like it. But I am now doing it because damn it I deserve to look my best. I deserve to look in the mirror and say “ahhh look at my butt.” And not be ready to break down in tears.

I have plans on getting some more free weights and some sort of tape to follow along until I learn how to properly lift weights. I am hunting down a high school track so I can go and walk briskly. I have every intention on jogging someday, jogging for the love of it and not panting and sweating and hating it. But rather reaching that finish line in my mind and feeling a sense of accomplishment. Yes ‘t’ jogs, but ya know what. So what. He’s 7,000 miles away. I just know that when he mentioned it at first I got this sinking feeling. This thought , “how could I ever be with a man that was physically fit and out exercising when I’m standing around watching my arms wave at each other even though I’m not moving them. I mean this is horrendous. I am not an old lady. It’s like I allowed myself to forget to take care of myself.

I want to one day rip my clothes off with abandon and passion and crave a man’s eyes rolling across the finely tuned landscapes of my body. Yes, it’s shallow. Yes I’m rarely this shallow. And yes I have all intentions on one day going to school and getting that education that I want. But for now, I can’t address those issues due to current finances. But guess what. It’s free to exercise. It’s free to run. It’s free to choose veggies over fat and carbs. It’s free to go for a walk, lift weights and its free to care about oneself again.

Do I truly give a fuck what anyone says about my ass? Nope. I don’t. I know that I want to be loved one day for who I am not what I am. But isn’t who we are the same as what we are? While I don’t care what anyone else thinks or says, I do care about how I feel about who and what I am. And I’m tired of not looking like I feel.

And besides, I myself can honestly say that when I look at a man I can appreciate that line going down the side of his body. That line that defines his stomach from his side. That line that spells out ‘damn that’s sexy…damn he looks hot.” And if I myself am attracted to that why should I lift up my shirt and offer up a mass of fleshy confusion at best? I mean really. I’m not shallow, I just want to look on the outside like the woman I know I am on the inside.

Ok so….this is just the physical side of things. I’ll get to the other stuff soon enough…..

By the way, if you have ideas, tips, or exercise tapes that you think will help…by all means let me know.

Incidentally….a thank you of sorts has gotta go out to the innocent bystanders putting their lives together that have inspired me to be a better me on the inside and the outside.

So a huge huge thanks to Jenn ….for just being an inspiration for the life that I can one day obtain and be happy with. You inspire me girl…always have! I mean c’mon a girl that shows off her ass? Someday…someday I’m gonna post my hot ass on my diary. Watch and see!!! Yeeehawwwwwwwww. Now that line thing…that might be awhile….but…hey you have to start somewhere. *shrugs*

-PoeticaL
8:40 p.m. ::
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