Surviving Skinny

I'm trying to start wearing more fitted clothes.

Recently one of my girl friends started telling me how another girl was talking about how "All of the Libbeys have curvy butts--except Esther."

This is highly insulting.

I am a blood born Libbey: I have a bum.

But then she followed the insult, by saying, in the same conversation, "You already wear your clothes too tight."

After you have insulted my supposed lack of curves, you have lost your right to insult me for wearing clothes that show them.

How can I be too-curvy-for-my-clothes and curve-less at the same time?

Don't ever tell me that I don't have curves. I'll be tempted to prove otherwise.

Watching Everything Crumble

I wrote most of this in the beginning (or middle?) of last year. Apparently breakups take time. (Posting what I write, if I ever do, takes time too.)

Watching Everything Crumble

Watching everything crumble
Relieved... it's all over (added 9-24-15)

Wondering... as I  watch you walk away a third time.
("Three strikes and out" an umpire's voice gravely booming.)

Thinking... if I didn't wait this long,
Would I always regret and wonder?

Knowing... that I still wonder. (A little.)

Time is finite. And ours is gone.
BUT our time. Was it really wasted?

Don't call me a mistake.
Or do. And I'll pretend not to care.

I'm fine with this, our past, I'm just questioning the future(s.)
Can we grow distant without becoming mean and jaded.

Will I somehow walk safely through this (breakup) despite knives from should-be spectators.

Sometimes we protect things, BECAUSE they are being stolen.
Keep people BECAUSE they are being taken.

Is this still worth fighting for?
No, not anymore, but it was worth having.

I only ever asked for 2nd place. Accepted 5th for far too long.
Los(er) win. Game over.

Breakover (Breakup Inspired Makeover): Goals

I have always planned to give myself a makeover after this break-up.

This was the plan even before I had a boyfriend, so it's a big deal.

'Yes, perhaps things will end, and hearts will be broken, but here is a coping strategy for just in case.'

I know it sounds pessimistic to pre-plan a thing that hasn't happened, but planning keeps me from stressing about the 'what-if's' and helps me to stop cowering and make life choices. Less shell shock too.

One of my best friends, when we were teenagers, was dumped and showed up blonde and curly headed the next week. She sang in the youth choir that week, and the youth leader asked me,"Who is that lady?"

She has been my break-over inspiration for so many years.

But I've been quite completely single for x amount of months, and have not yet done anything to myself.

...Well, I reshaped my eyebrows; that's something.

But

I mostly like my hair: it changes colors according to what I'm wearing (and according to how much gel I've got in it.) Plus I don't want to kill off my curls.

I want to do something though.

I plan to write new experiences next to these memories instead of disassociating myself from them completely.

I'm going to have sad memories that are stuck in my head for this specific time frame, and while I'm not trying to rewrite my experiences or white out my choices, I do want something else to remember this part of life by.

I find it helpful to have another mind topic to jump into if I'm dwelling too heavily on painful memories, or if I start getting too bitter with 'the people.'

But the big question remains.

--What should I do to myself?

Sigh.

Problems and Promises

Quit maximizing the demons your fighting... That's the same or close to minimizing the saviour.

Us pretending this problem is Goliath preventing... but really he's just a toy soldier fighting.

In the hand of foolish children.
Seen by the eyes of an all knowing Father.

And even Goliath fell. Don't forget that we were ALL given a Brother.

Do you see your 'stones of stumbling' like Bumblebee, or the evil warriors he's fighting (from transformers) when really it's just a few micro-machines?

In the eyes of Our King?
Yeah, but not ONLY in his eyes. We say cringing.

You are His child. Whose eyes should YOU have?

Stop. This. Fearful. Tear filled.
Double vision. Double minded nonsense.

Says the girl who can't sleep cause her head won't shut up.

Says the girl purposely avoiding her Bible 'cause lately she gets so obsessed with stories and storms.

And worries because every voice she hears is not His.

But

After Jesus

Even Goliath (AKA Judas or Pontius Pilate) gets a chance at redemption.

That's the glory of salvation. The possible transformation of villains to heroes. Freedom not to continue in hate but to become similar to Him.

Are we His children? Make an introduction.

-Esther

Mainstream Modesty

I believe it's best to not show your thighs, cleavage or abs...

I also believe immodesty doesn't make people into hell-bound sinners.

---

Yes I walk that fence.

--

So shoot me. I'm a wolf in sheep's clothing...  

...Or a sheep in wolves clothing.

Or so you would think if you heard people talk about anyone who chooses to live differently from mainstream American people.

...Or differently from typical Holiness Pentecostal.

And still claim Christ

Call themselves holy

Set apart

Consecrated

--

I don't want to be set apart if that means hiding. Jesus was friends with prostitutes. Would he refuse to befriend someone for showing too much skin?

I love people from all different walks of life, including the ones who are walking the wrong direction.

But! I wanna wear clothes!

I see no need. And dislike the idea.

Of getting people to like me because my body is nice...

--

It’s scary when 'tis assumed that the outside style determines the entire inside heart of a person. (Either way. Even when it's assumed about the people 'who wear too many clothes.')

But also. Although.

I.

Am.

Not.

Responsible.

Ror your husband's lust problems.

I'm not going to ever intentionally feed someone else's evil beast...

So I try to dress in looser clothes around people who have body obsession issues. And live in a manner, so as to not awaken your demons.

But they ARE your demons. Not mine. Don't forget THAT distinction sir.

Or ma'am.

Some ladies with a lotta skin showing ARE trying to stir up lust. It's not all accidental...

Some intentionally choose a low cut top, then start poking fun of the man driven to drop his head... or staring in awkward idolization.

But more often its done out of desperation.... "I neeeed people to see me as pretty. I am gonna die without a boyfriend." (Don't marginalize and criticize unless you're able and willing to see these girls as pretty with their curves covered up.)

I've also heard the other side-

"I hate it, but this is THE ONLY WAY to keep my husband's attention..." (That's an awful concept, but sometimes it works... What amount of skin would you give up if it kept your husband eyes from constantly straying?)

---

But the point I'm wanting to make-

...Some ladies really don't know, and/or just expect other people to deal with their own issues. 

Expect men to conquer and control their own sin nature.

Showing cleavage or abs or whatever; that's just another accessory. (I'm not saying it should be...)

But people SHOULD deal with their problems instead of accusing others.

Don't blame an innocent man/woman/child for your unconquered lust.

Lust is a spirit. Whoever has it; its their job to master it.

Still

Life is a power struggle. Which dog? The angel or demon on HIS shoulder? Which one? Who are you feeding?

And why?

What would you sacrifice in order to win that broken person.

How much is your sex appeal worth? Would you ever lose it IF you'd win a soul by hiding 'what everyone's mamma gave us.'

Sometimes we hurt...

It's so common for people to hide pain in an attempt to show the world that we are loved and protected. A facade that we believe will enhance our reputation or protect our emotions.

Christians often follow along

We have such good motives... Refuse to don't talk about our wounds, because we want to show that Christianity is easy, and good.

And it is.

EASIER... than the alternative.

But pretending away scars gives others false reassurance. -That they will never be wounded. -Never be expected to stand against the oppressor... -Or against a misguided friend.

We hide the complete realization that there is both Grace after sin--AND Freedom from falling into sin (or bondage, or addiction) found in Jesus. We accidentally keep our friends or enemies from fully grasping the salve we already know is available.

Sometimes God Himself allows bad things to come bother us, though he gets mad. (IF they beat the innocent.)

But
God himself is limited... in His protection.

...to the area/s where he is welcome.

IF a person hasn't allowed God control of all of themselves, they are able to become mean or sinful. Or willing to allow spite and hate to dump on others and pretend away responsibility. (Just one small example.)

God doesn't order anyone to be good.

Sometimes even evil itself is outside of His jurisdiction...

If we put it there
Refuse to condemn the problem

In our effort to protect the guilty
We refuse to stand up for the innocent

Have you refused to be a judge
Or cast down right judgement

--
Have you ever done a bad thing? Have you always been perfect? Did God stop you? Or was it people? Or maybe yourself.

Now flip it

Have you ever been treated bad. Has your life always been perfect?

Did God fail you, or was it people? Maybe even yourself.
--
God expects His children to be about His business

It is our job to stand up. We are to be Jesus to the world.
---
Don't throw away the darkness, you just walked through. Learn to be a light in that particular storm.

Don't delete all your druggie friends numbers... You should be able to be a light in their storm.
YOU. YOU ARE JESUS TO THEIR WHOLE WORLD.

Don't forget your past.
It may become their future.

But you may also be able to exchange that destiny. (For a relatively small price--remembering your own pain.)

The blind can't lead the blind BUT a formerly blind man IS often the best person to lead a blind man to Jesus.

Which paths to avoid,

but more importantly

How awe inspiring the Sonrise(ing) to power... in a once blackened life.

Inner Critic

I often hear people talking about the angry little person inside their head always cutting, and criticizing.

"You're worthless, and stupid, and ugly." Like demons haunting their thoughts with failure and rejection...

Popular opinion seems to be, "Fight or belittle it. Tell yourself that it is a scared hateful little child, or a stupid idiot."

"My children WILL NOT have that little person in their head" Dan told me, "I will raise them in happiness. I WILL be a better father."

But our inner critics have a POSITIVE purpose.

(Don't lose them altogether...)

...please

Listen to this...

My 'little people' in my head adore me. Wouldn't trade em for a million bucks. My inner self is hilarious, and almost always kind. My 'demons' protect me from the darkness, and turn angels in the blinding light. Remind me I'm always safe. And free.

But they're happy. They say.

If I'm having a rough day my head makes me happy. My inner self creates rainbows DURING each storm. I laugh at sadness itself, (though really I shouldn't ignore the negative emotions...)

Your head is mean to you.

Why?

My head occasionally gets mean. My inner 'children', grumpy thoughts, get unruly from time to time.

If I ignore myself:

Pretend that emotions don't matter

And goals are worthless...

That my needs have no purpose

Or my voice has no renascence...

OR if I pretend others don't matter...
That ME I'm always number 1

Maybe it's you who is the problem

You've failed to raise your thoughts

Your past remains their present

It's the people who are mean... to them

Is what my inner voice says.

Clinging closer in horror

--

Tolley-ball & Libbey Word Wars

Gasp! Fighting! In public!

---
What side are you on?
Pick a side!

I'm on the sidelines.

Then do something.
Pick a team. Cheer OR heckle!
--
We are boring spectators -My family.
Silently passive--even when greatly interested.

Sigh. 

-

Got game though:
We told our friends that it would be possible to mislead others to believe we'd been in church. Every time the ball changes teams, "Service!" is yelled. "We had great service." Lol

My body is a temple; gotta take care of her, but I'm bored of exercise. Tired of games.

My family; we pick on each other for fun... That's abnormal?

One guy asked me, "Why are we always like 2 rocks beating each other, Esther?"

I was all, "Dude you're always jabbing me. I thought you enjoyed jousting." in my head. But later out-loud I said, "I'm working on not being so mean to you all the time,"

Let his own meanness slide.
Allowed the fight that we had die.

So sad.

To think of all his wit wasted. I prefer sharp.

but to each his own.

Skinny Women Unite!

"Real women have curves!"

"But models just look like 12 year old boys."

"Real men like curves. Only dogs like bones."

"Before skinny was popular, there was something called sexy."

Grrr!

I have curves too. They're just... um... smaller. Skinny women having no curves is just a mean stereotype.

And even those scrawny, straight-up-and-down curve-less ladies are real women. Real woman who are often just as self conscious about their androgynous frame as you are about your chunky one.

Sometimes more.

Why do women who are self conscious about their bodies feel implying other women are fake or unattractive is somehow righting an injustice?

Because it doesn't. It doesn't help anything or anyone.

It just projects criticism onto a different set of women's bodies.

I'm nice to people of all sizes. It would be mean for me to say something like, "Why would any man want a fat jiggly girl?" (And I haven't said that. I know that some men prefer bigger ladies--in fact I've had a few look at my skinny frame and tell me so... even going so far as telling me I should take pills to get fatter...)

But it's just as horrible of you to say, "Why would a guy want a skinny-looking girl?" (Because my girl friends have said that and so much more- not usually-specifically pointing at my body- but openly generalizing about bodies in general, and skinny ladies in specific.)

Why do people think it's OK to be mean to skinny people!

Be nice or I will sit on you. (And I've been told that my bony butt hurts people's thighs, but you so deserve that.)

(Last week)

Hugely exaggerated stories. Malicious talk...

The third thing, after shock and pain, that filled my mind was, 'Woah how dare they tell such horrid lies, and attempt [semi successfully] to ostracize everyone associated with one person just because they didn't get what they wanted...

Then a moment later, "Hmm, I know enough provable dirt on them to show their history of lying, and could easily prove some way worse sins than the one they are falsely claiming my friend is living in.'

..And for a few minutes I thought about blurting it all out. Giving what they gave. Pulling up the net, 'the Internet is forever,' and as of right now there is so many provable contradictions.

Then I remembered-

God's love is forever too
So is God's forgiveness

Forgiveness that not only applies to my best friends, but forgiveness that is available to those that hate them and us, and you. And, well, everyone.

To be a Christian I must be Christlike.

As far as the East is From the West. That's how far I am to forgive.

[May 2014 Update: I'm still in favor of forgiving people, but wish I'd stood up for my friends better.]

God Doesn't Like Vegetables

My family, we eat together. Not every day, but often enough.

"Eat something green" Leah told Seth.

"I'm a carnivore. I eat meat." Seth replied.

"Seriously you should eat some broccoli."

"Hey Abel tried to offer God vegetables, and God didn't want them. Why should we?" Nathaniel said, "Seth is just trying to be more like God."

Fail

So the sweet 26 year old girl I tried to set my older brother up with is.... apparently quite smitten with a just turned 18 year old who is not yet out of highschool.

Dude.

This is why I don't shouldn't play matchmaker.

Untitled Story

I miss you already
        and
I miss 'our' chapter
        but
As I start to slam the book closed
        so
Unhappy with this ending

The Author reminds me
He is writing my book
    (If I let Him)

And it's not over yet

Perhaps we were only minor characters in each other's story
But will be supporting characters in someone else's book

Here's to happy endings...

----

Why. Does. The. Belly. Need. Prayer?

Just posted something about bellies, and now I'm posting this. (Because I told Sharron I probably would post these two old posts from my drafts.) Probably I've written too much about bellies, so that's kinda awkward but...
---
I don't want girls rubbing my belly either.

In fact that is sometimes even more uncomfortable than guys rubbing it. Girls only occasional do so to me, and is more brief, so less intrusive.

Except in church when praying.

One of my friends recently said, "I hate, like, when someone pets my arm. And these people who have to be all over you all the time." She shuddered, "I am not a touchie person."

I made a mental note of her preferences, then said with a shudder, "Yeah well, I am a touchie person, but when people pray for my belly I feel assaulted."

Then that very night at church, "Put your hand on her belly and pray for her." I was told as the guy moved my hand. Usually it's men who tell you to do that. Because they are uncomfortable touching a lady's belly themselves.

But. Why. Does. The. Belly. Need. Prayed. For.

I could understand, maybe, if they were being prayed for a stomach cramp, but... It's like they think a lady's soul is stuck in their belly or something...

I moved my hand, to her shoulder. And someone moved it back.

So there I was with my hand on someones belly with, 'Awkward and squishy. Awkward and squishy. Awkward and squishy'  playing in my mind like a scratched C.D. Not comfortably squishy like pinching a fat roll just... just awkward (seriously I can not explain the horrible terrible awkwardness of praying for someone's belly.)

'I'll just pray for her belt' I told myself, and moved my hand to the wide belt over her waist 'much better.'

People pray for bellies all the time. AS IF it is normal. Or something.

If anyone prays for mine I stand there and waste my prayers on praying that they will leave.
Or tense up and try to keep the frustration out of my face.
I fight nervous laughter.
Or I step away.

Occasionally I continue praying even though my belly is being assaulted. Mostly only if I am really really feeling that the person is lead by God to pray for me.

Edit: Sunday (11-28-10) a lady was praying for me and grabbed my ribs just above my belly. It was still strange, but not horribly so. If your hands need to be in that vicinity my ribs might be an acceptable place for them.

If you see my belly being prayed for, feel free to mention my discomfort to the person and/or send them a link to this post after service. Please.

My Belly is Mine. Not Yours. Please Don't Touch It.

---
I know my rock hard abs fascinate you. Oh well.  Get over it. Go pet a turtle.

---

When I was 16 one of my best friends used to always grab me and force me still while petting my belly. And I fussed and fumed and pushed him away, but he just laughed. Finally I talked to his girlfriend, "Can you please, pleeeeease ask ____ to quit touching my belly?" So he stopped. (I'm sure she didn't like watching him always grabbing me either...)

I said that to say I would do so again. A mild threat I guess.

There is another guy who won't stop grabbing me again lately. Ugh it freaks me out.

So to you. (And yes I know that you know I have a blog)

I've already asked you to quit--Please do so.

My belly is off limits for you. I am definitely more cautious around the people who have grabbed my tush and boobs than those who pet my belly. I realize you don't feel that it is a big deal. Maybe even your wife doesn't care.

But I care. My belly is too much for you (a married man) to be rubbing. I realize that your belly is not important to you, and it has been explained to me by various people that acquaintances/friends rubbing each others bellies is the same as a handshake. *Shudder*

I don't consider you a creep. (Only because you are normal in other ways, and I feel your heart is clean.)

However, this particular behavior is creeping me out.

[Edit: I did talk to this recent guy's wife. Bla awkward. But it's over, so that's good.]

"PS: I'm Married" -not me

All the single people at one table. Couples who are friends together. Family's with kids together... (wedding seating arrangements.)

The brides high school best friend was assigned to a 'married-but-spouse-isn't-here-table'. When the other guests assigned to that table moved, and there were extra seats at the singles table, she came to sit there with us. (She knew me a little bit, and didn't know anyone else at the reception...)

One of the guys started talking to her. Not all, "Yeah baby you're hot." Just tastefully flirting--maybe he wouldn't call it that--but he was definitely interested in her, and had singled her out from across the table, was trying his best to keep her conversation, kept asking questions about her life, and was teasing her a little, you know... flirting.

Flirting is acceptable if you're single, or if you're flirting with your spouse or boyfriend or girlfriend.

But when you're married you shouldn't be flirting with people other than your spouse. And even if you're not married yourself, you shouldn't flirt with someone who is.

But she's pretty. He was attracted to her. That wasn't wrong of either of them.

Across the table she tried to get the point out. She started her sentences with, "My husband and I..." and "At my wedding."

"I'm only catching pieces of what you are saying." He leaned eagerly over the table toward her.

She put her hands on the table and started playing with her wedding rings, and holding them to the light to admire them.

It took a while, but finally he realized she was married. His eyes got big and he pulled back. But she left him with his dignity. And that impressed me.

I picture myself saying something blunt and horrid like, "By the way I'm married stop flirting with me."

What's sad is that Leah's first words when we were talking about it was, "Yeah you would say 'Dude I'm married. Quit flirting with me'. or something horrid and rude like that."

I'm going to learn tact.

Twinking / Try to NOT Upset the Parents

I feel like a bad friend today.

I've come to understand that matching is painfully difficult for some people. It doesn't bother me. Maybe because I grew up dirt poor, and we were lucky if our hand-me-downs were presentable. Maybe because my girlfriends used to try to match.
But I usually try to respect other people's feelings.

I was just making conversation.

"Ohh, I love your blazer. I need one." (I lost my black blazer in Pennslyvania)

"Um, uh I got it at Wal-Mart."

I had assumed Courtney had given it to her, and didn't think buying one was an option. But knowledge is power...

So the next week I bought one. And have carefully avoided wearing it around our mutual friends.

Just in case...

I got in trouble that way once. Sort of. Well not my trouble but it was a guilt trip lemmetellya... A different day. A different girl.

I was trying on hoodies.

"I have that one." she said.

"Does Rusty mean something? Is that someone famous? I really don't want to wear someone's name."  Everyone laughed at me and said no.

(I'm no skater chic. PacSun isn't my style. I was only looking because they were $5.)

I pulled it off the hanger, and tried it on, but she cringed so I asked, "Do you care if I have the same hoodie as you?"

And she said, "No."

But she didn't mean it. And I knew that, but bought it anyway.

She griped a little about 'twinkin.' Was a two-sided jacket. Designs on one side and purple on the other. Upon asking, she said she only wore the purple side outside, so I determined to wear the other side.

--2 weeks later--

"You have a jacket just like ____" It was her mom, "Why aren't you wearing it on the pretty side."

"Well ___  doesn't like to match." I said it matter of fact, then I caught her mom's face and said, "I really don't care though, I like this side."

She went all mama bear, but the other way around. "Honey you wear it on the pretty side! Turn that inside out right away!"

It was very awkward. And I tried to explain that I really was fine with the other side. And said I hadn't been told not to match.

But the next week the daughter was all, "I'm sorry." (I'm sure her mom fussed at her.)

It's no crime to not want to match.

Awkward.
Drama.

Bla. It isn't even a very cute hoodie.

47 Minutes at the Flea Market.

According to Grandma's memoir I'm part Scottish. Maybe that's why I love flea markets and haggling...

I don't care enough about a good deal to hunt out yard sales. Feels like I'm wasting $40 worth of time and $5 worth of gas. But on Saturday mornings when I don't have 5,000 things I should've done yesterday, I like to visit the flea market.

It's entirely different from the Sweetwater Flea Market where the booths never change year around, the sellers buy inventory quarterly, and have employees who are required to fill out tax forms.

I go to Midway Drive-In Theater where on Saturday mornings sellers pay $2 to spread blankets on the gravel. It's a yard sale style flea market with lots of people selling years worth of used and unused cast-offs accumulated from our wasteful American lifestyle.

(Also people who have probably been dumpster diving...)

I'm told, "To get the good deals you need to get there early." I scoff at that. Unlike yard sales this flea market rarely lasts till noon, around 9:30 buyers thin out and sellers want to go home. Most plan to donate their unsold items to Goodwill, so drop their prices. Plus I like to sleep in.

But about the dumpster diving guy... (Btw I have just now named him Blake, and shall hereafter refer to him thus when convenient.)

"$5 I’ll sell you this whole box for $5! What a deal!” He called out as I stopped at his table.

“I don’t need all this stuff.” I said before I shifted through the cardboard box of phone jacks and chargers, ear buds and headphones—all new and in their plastic boxes--before pulling out a package labeled wireless earbuds.

“I’ll give you $1 for this.” I told him.

“Only a dollar!” He griped, “ Three dollars, two fifty at least.”

“Oh whatever. You offered me the whole box for $5 we both know I could’ve bought this for fifty-cents.” I grinned and shook my head.

“Ohhhh, ok a dollar then,” Blake said. Then noting the $5 price he had written on the package sighed dramatically dropped his shoulders and shaking his head said, “The things I do for pretty girls.”

Just then a man came by and asked the price of two chairs.

“I’ve got to get rid of this stuff. Tell you what I’ll sell them for $20 apiece, but you’ve got to buy them both.”

The man nodded and reached for his wallet, but was interrupted by Blake’s wife who was sitting a few yards away. “$5 each for the chairs she yelled”

“Well $5 I guess then.” Blake said and grimaced in her direction.
---

Pictures of all the things I bought today [Edit: this was written in June, so like most of my posts "today" is not really today] after the jump

I Could Really Use A Change of Heart

"Where do you see yourself in 5 years?" he asked.

Self conscious, I slouched a little down the wall, "I would like to be married."

"Do you plan to keep a job after you're married?"

"Until I have kids." The thought of staying home with children all the time is not an exciting thought to me. But I believe that the parents should raise their children not the grandma. (When beliefs and desires conflict; I usually stick to beliefs...)

"I was thinking that, so theres not a lot of point of you going to school."

"Weeeeell 5 years ago I wouldn't have expected myself to be still single today, soooo."

"But that was by choice right? You could be married by now if you wanted to."

'Shove it in my face man... Yes. I walked away from everyone.'

I was busy, they didn't suit me, one (or 8) of my friends were in love with him and I didn't want to destroy my girl friendships, or I was scared...or my heart was otherwise occupied, so I didn't give anyone else a chance.

Mostly the heart-being-otherwise-occupied thing.

I'm everything or nothing; either intensely in like, or planning my escape. Usually both simultaneously. I hate that. Blast this.

What is the matter with me?