I am not perfect. I am no spring chicken. I’m no Barbie with flawless plastic skin, legs up to Heaven and an impossible waist. I have wrinkles, stretch marks, freckles, pimples. My stomach is no washboard for sure, but that is not because of diet or lack of exercise. My body bears the scars of many, many experiences a lifetime of living brings.
I like my food. I have an enormous propensity for eating. Where does it go, I hear you ask. It goes to my face, that’s where it goes. My Oriental Moon face, as some like to call it. Yes, it’s a round shape, I can’t help the genes I was born with.
When I put on weight, it goes to my face first. When I lose weight, it goes from my boobs first. Shucks. So, if you see me looking like a lollipop, big round face with a stick body attached, you know I’ve been on a diet. I realised this when one day I found myself stuffing tissue paper into my bra cups, just to look less flatchested. After the last time that happened, oh so many years ago, I decided to learn to love my body, and not try to make it something it clearly isn’t. I chose Health and Exercise instead of Fashion and Make Up. I’m much more comfortable in a t-shirt and trousers and boots, than in a filmy, floaty dress and stilettos.
These days I’m anything between a UK size 12-16. Yes, when we women are close to getting our periods, we can get bloated from water retention and shift up a dress size or two. That’s a fact of life. Embrace it, don’t deny it. You’ll feel better about yourself for it. Yes, PMS is real too, so deal with it, gents, or stay out of our way. 😄
And if anyone dares to criticize your size, weight, looks and appearance…you tell them where to go, sister.
It’s Your body. Learn to love it, because you’re going to be living in it for a long time.
Cosmetic surgery? Sure, go ahead, if you really must. It might fix a thing or three, but you’ll be constantly fretting about your other imperfections, and then you’ll spend the rest of your life and money fixing those things. Have you seen what happens when cosmetic surgery goes wrong, or when someone has clearly had way too much of it?
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. This sick Society we live in has declared that Beauty should be such and such, and every girl should try and fit into that mold. It will make you attractive to men, so you can catch a handsome husband, get married, have children and live happily ever after.
Maybe our forebears lived that fairytale, but we sure don’t these days. For one, many of us gals are finding that the company of other women is far more enriching and satisfying than the company of men. So, hetero guys, you really need to pull your socks up and change your outlook and criteria, or you’ll be left in the dirt.
Men can be just as shallow as women, if not more so. In the name of research, I signed on to a free internet dating site, to see what the fish were like in the sea these days. Turns out 95% of men still believe that they can attract women by boasting about their motorcycles, cars and boats. Or about their strong affiliations with certain sports and teams. My impression was that these guys are actually searching not for potential life partners, but for likeminded friends in a sports club. So, why not just go to a sports club?
Gents, if you’re really serious about finding The One, you really should start thinking about what The One may be looking for. You’d be extremely lucky to find The One online, who loves your Harley as much as you do, or will go wild beside you and scream along with you at an AFL match. If that’s what you’re after, my advice is to ditch the internet dating scene and go to a motorcycle rally, vintage car show, sports event, or whatever your poison is. You’re more than likely to find that those places have done you a great favour already by filtering through your potential candidates and presenting you with those who share your passion for hot rods or angling rods.
As for me, I’m just your average 45-year-old Oriental lassie, carrying a few extra pounds, with a Moon face, little eyes, floppy belly, scars and scarecrow hair. But I’m also witty, savvy, intelligent, funny, hardworking, self-motivated, passionate, honest, truthful and always to the point.
I don’t like using my photo for social media profiles. But it’s not because I’m ashamed of my looks. It’s because I know people will respect me more based on what I write in black and white, or over the phone and internet, rather than on what I say in person. Because, unlike a lot of people, I don’t judge a book by its cover, but by what its contents are like. I’m more interested in the story than in its flashy outer wrapping. My own outer wrapping is perhaps not the prettiest, and I find most men tend to look past me or even through me because of that…but that’s a reflection on their shallowness, and not on me.
What they don’t know is just what they’re missing out on, because baby, I’m all about content 😉.