My Secret

My secret.

If I could keep anything from you, it isn’t that I sucked my thumb for far too long. It wouldn’t be that I grew up in a house where water was shut off due to unpaid bills. Or that I have been accused of lying, cheating, and stealing (whether guilty or not). It wouldn’t even be that I have run away from home in bare feet, scared to death and nowhere to go.

Yes, these are my secrets. Things I try to keep from even my innermost circle of friends. But, with my head hung in shame, fear or embarrassment, I would do it. I would share this with you. If it meant that my secret, my one that can bring me to tears and silence in seconds, would never have to be shared.

It’s that I’m a big girl … big boned, plus sized, shapely, lusciously large, full figured … fat.

No, dear friend, I am not just 10lbs overweight, or even 30. It’s more than that. But, it has never defined me. Yet it has. It doesn’t make me who I am yet at times, it’s everything about me. For others, it IS my very being. I’m sure I’ve been written off by people who have not taken a moment to get to know me strictly because of what I look like.

But, I am so, so much more than that. But there are moments that I forget. And that’s when this little, yet big, issue becomes my grandest secret.

I’ve heard the jokes – from the school hallways to the mall, my own backyard to the workplace. From mothers in front of their daughters at the local playground to boys in clubs with beers in their hands. Some were blatant and said straight to my face. Others were side comments or side glances that I caught – because I’m always on the lookout. Always one the defense. Ready to … to … ready to take it.

There are days I fight. And I fight hard. With the mirror. With my jeans. With my make-up. With every physical part of myself. It seems to be those very days that I just happen to pass the best looking girls, the most attractive men. And I feel inadequate, insecure, insignificant – not me. I seem to forget the things that make up who I am.

How do I get back there to this place where I can remember? I’m on my way right now ...

I need a hairbrush!

Happy Valentine's Day, friends!

For the first time in a while, I showered at night instead of the morning. See, though I have no date for today I wanted to curl my hair and be all cute for this day; as if to say "I don't care if I'm single, I'm going to smile and live it up anyway."

So, I get to work and of course I decide I don't like my hair. It looks alright but it needs to be brushed. Except there are no brushes ANYWHERE!! Ugh.

I know it isn't the end of the world but I'm irritated. Thankfully, I have my Starbucks coffee (compliments of my work bff), a pink shirt and quite possibly a fork that can act as a comb! And it's only 8am. If this is the worst part of my day, then I'm going to be okay. It's going to be interesting. I can't tell you exactly what I'm doing (for fear you might cringe!) but I will be sure to let you know how it turns out!

So, what's a girl gotta do when she needs a hairbrush? Flip your head upside down, shake it out and act like you don't care ... it's amazing how good it'll look then!

Wish me luck.
Have a happy heart!