Today I’m 32. I think, I’m at the age when Sex and the City characters were first introduced. When I first watched the show, I was in my early twenties and the characters looked so mature and… old to be honest. When they referred to a man as a cutie, I was disgusted. Because those men were also old. Too old.
Now, when I look back and remember the pilot, Carrie looks like a teenager to me. And Steve is not that gross, he’s quite cute actually.
Today I’m 32 and I know that it’s not that big of a deal, but it feels like it is. Those late late twenties mentality is almost gone and I feel mature enough to lead myself. Until this year, I let anyone decide for me. From now on, I don’t want to do that.
I’m not saying that I know myself now. I’m still starting something, but I know better some things. Unfortunately not everything. But at least, I know what to expect from myself and from others.
I know that my closest friend won’t be celebrating my birthday and that’s okay. She’s dealing with a huge loss. I also know that another close friend of mine will forget the day, because she has problems that I couldn’t possibly compare.
What I have written so far, sounds like a big nonsense. But it means something to me and I’d love to remember this day when I realized that I know few things about myself. Even though, not about world. I’m still too young. Maybe I always will be.
I am a body dysmorphic without the dysmorphic. I am a bulimic without the sick. I am fat. – Rae Earl, My Mad Fat Diary (TV show)
I will be 32 on May 16th. When I was stretching this morning, I just realized. After years and years of torturing my body while losing and gaining weight, I’m finally comfortable in my own skin. Don’t get me wrong, I still want to lose weight and be that strong and healthy woman that I know that I can be. But right now, I’m also happy the way I am. Yes, I have a lot of extra on my body but that doesn’t mean that I’m any less. I know that I will lose all of that extra some day, but in the mean time, I’ll continue to be me. Not someone imperfect just because she has some extra.
I used to read those articles where women embraced their bodies by the time they were in their thirties and I couldn’t believe them. Not having the perfect body and still feeling yourself beautiful. No way in seven hells. But this morning, I realized that this was the case for me as well. Years of shunning myself from the clothes that I wanted to wear seems like a waste now. Or not going to gym just because I didn’t look the part. It was all ridiculous. And for nothing.
Don’t get me wrong. I still have my body issues. I still identify with that quote from My Mad Fat Diary. But in the mean time, I know that I’m alright. And if I go to gym, it’s to be healthy. Not to be perfect.
I hope that you’ll get your realizations too someday. Because it’s worth it.
I used to lie. When I was a kid, I lied all the time. Now I don’t even know why. Maybe it was because reality was too harsh for a kid like me. So, I lied.
When I read A Tree Grown in Brooklyn, there was a part where Francie lied and her teacher recommended her to write stories instead of lying. This was a big realization for me. I was about twelve and I was lying a lot and the exact thing was happening to a girl in a novel that I had been reading. After that my habit of lying slowly diminished. I was telling a white lie sometimes, but mostly I preferred telling the truth.
Now, nearly 20 years later, I’m a terrible liar but excellent lie detector. Because I was once a liar, I don’t know how I got bad at lying. Once I stopped, I didn’t want to go back there again. And after years and years of not lying, I forgot how to.
I think, when we are growing up, we learn how to lie. But, for me, since I was a liar in the beginning, I needed to learn how to tell the truth.
So, this is something about me and my childhood.