Another coffee? Yes, please!

After nearly 70 lbs lost you'd figure I'd show at least a little more pride and a little less self hate. If anything that self hate has gotten worse. I've stood naked in front of the mirror before a shower with the best intentions, telling myself that I needed to be strong and find something good about my body. One thing I could be proud of. Instead I found and berated myself for at least twenty things I was ashamed of.

My arms...come on I'm 25 fucking years old and I have my grandma's arms. If it were aerodynamically possible I could fly home with these things.

My face. I used to be so proud of the high cheekbones that weren't overly produtive (is that even a word?), but hinted at my native background. Add my long brown hair, when I allowed it to grow out, and the pale skin just didn't matter. I'm very proud of my heritage. Now though, I'm all roundness and pale.

My rack. Okay I've got a pretty decent pair but that's mostly thanks to Cacique and wonderful bras. I breastfed for a year, I'm not perky. If I ever get to goal, I want a new set.

My stomach. I now have a waist again, however shriveled, loose, fat, and wrinkled it is. I still can't wear my sweet babydoll band tees out in public without a hoodie over them. It's depressing.

My lower abdomen. I get a lot of people telling me that I carried a child, blah blah blah blah. Yeah Tony did a number on me. He was 10 lbs 5 oz, 23 1/4 inches long. He stretched me to China. He was also too big for natural birth. I didn't even go through labour. Had an emergency c-section on his due date. The long, barely visible, but slightly silvery scar is my battle wound. The one thing on my stomach I'm proud to overflowing about. The puckered, wrinkled, saggy skin around it...not so much.

My hips...I've always been hippy. I was once told that I was a true hourglass, however with child bearing and age I've fallen into the pear shape. I hate it. I can manage to make myself look and feel somewhat attractive from the waist up. Waist down and it's all over. My hips are wide and hideous.

My thighs. I've always been chunkier in the leg. Not necessarily a bad thing. I look at girls with stick skinny legs and cringe. I don't dig other chicks, but I appreciate a beautiful body, regardless of gender. Legs should have muscles and curve. My thighs are jiggly and fat, my calves round and hard, my ankles not small but dainty no less. I remember when I was pregnant and my ankles turned into cankles. I was devastated! I was always so proud of my ankles. When the water retention finally went away I cried because I had that natural structure again. The curve, bone, muscle, tendon...soooo beautiful.

My ass. Ugh. Really. I've got a flat, wide ass. You know those kids that would yell wide load...yeah I really always deserved that. I always thought, you know if I had to have a giant ass couldn't it at least have some shape? Nope. I got screwed on that angle. Now add the miles of cellulite and I'm a real fucking sight to behold.

Finally my back. I have this thing about backs. Maybe it's the artist in me that can see the beauty in all the contours and find it soooo sexy. I don't know. But I do not have a sexy back. There aren't any contours, just lumps. I have this huge, beautiful dreamcatcher and I'm too scared to show it off...because of my back.

Now all this is just a general overview of my self disgust. It gets deeper and more intricate. But you know, I didn't want to bore you all or bring you down. Ha!

Until next time...