Tuesday, March 06, 2012

Room for two?

After I changed into my suit yesterday afternoon to head to court, I turned to check my backside in the mirror of the staff bathroom. The view wasn't as great as I'd hoped. My grey pencil skirt puckered notably just below the waist, a telltale sign that my underwear cut too tight into my widening rear. I no longer cared that I looked professional in my suit, ruffled shell, and peep-toe pumps. I fixated on my lumpy ass, and for the rest of the night I was self-conscious.

Confidence gets me through challenges with more dependability than any kind of actual skill. You could replace "skill" in that sentence with talent, intellect, or style, too. Simply put, if I feel off in my clothes (or like I have two stacked butts) I'm not going to wear them well. My butts or my clothes, that is. It doesn't matter how great an outfit looks on a hanger if I can't wear it without feeling like a schlub. Feeling good in clothes makes the difference. This is why I buy size 8L Express W20 jeans like it's my religion. I feel attractive in them and I enjoy my day more. The end.



Lately my lumpy ass shows in my writing. I'm self-conscious. I haven't written much here lately because I feel the eyes of the world on me. I give myself some really great excuses about not having time or about writing too much for my masters' program instead, but the truth is that I've managed consistently to make writing a priority for about three years under more stressful situations than the current ones. And I'm kind of stalling when it comes to writing anything substantial for UCR. I'm not writing because I'm afraid.

I've been here before, and I know it will pass as soon as I can write for me again. Or for that one person who needed to read it. Frankly it's not--or I should say it's never--the idea that I am ashamed of people knowing any of the details about my life. I think that's what people think would be the hardest part of writing for any kind of audience, internet or otherwise. But they would be wrong. Look:

I bribed my kids with donuts last weekend so they would go shopping with me.
I cheated on 100% of my homework assignments for my AP Econ class in high school.
I have white hair growing on my head now with increasing frequency.
E and I have had a rough time with our marriage lately.
My ass is getting kind of big. (related: I ate chocolate cake for breakfast for the last two days.)

See, that's a bunch of stuff that you would think could be embarrassing, but I don't really care that you know it. If you were sitting here with me and you genuinely wanted to know, I'd tell you all of that. I think there's way more power in honesty when it comes to writing, anyway. I know I'd rather read a piece of writing that's real over the one where somebody talks in vague generalizations to keep up an image. (Hi, have we met, though? I'm Heather and I'm obsessed with my good-girl image.) But what brought me to blogging in the first place, which brought me to pursuing writing, was reading honesty. I was so comforted to see other people being broken, awkward, and interesting on the web.

I get weird when I start putting pressure on my writing to be something. I don't even know what that something is, but I know that when I start to feel like my writing is not it, I stop trying.

I'd like to try today.  So here's where I am, March 6, 2012:

I'm exhausted because I've been running hard for about a week and a half. And the running I am talking about is not the kind with athletic shoes and earbuds. It's the kind where I get really involved in something at work before I give too much thought to how it's going to take me away from my home and my family. And that doesn't make it bad, but it sure makes me feel guilty. And I might as well not call myself a runner anymore, because that is still just not happening. I haven't cooked dinner in weeks. I've been eating fast food like I want to be on the next Morgan Spurlock documentary. And my marriage? It's really, really hard to be married. It never gets easier for us. Sometimes, like now, it's really hard even with counseling and a history of hearing other people tell us how it has to work if it's going to work. We've been more frustrated with each other in the last month than we have in a long time. I don't really know why, but suddenly everything about everything has to be a thing. And of course I feel misunderstood and I feel pulled in two directions and I feel like I could just make everyone understand that they are all important to me.

So there you go. There's nothing at all literary about this post, but hopefully it helps me to hop back on the blogging bandwagon. Hopefully there's room for me and my two asses.

2 comments:

  1. Wow, I love your heartfelt honesty. I am one of those people to play it straight on the Internet. I think bribing your kids is all a part of life. I bribe my dog! I bribe my husband! Cheating is a part of life too...although - my hair is blondish - so hopefully the gray hair is well hidden. There are a couple of things you can change though - like eating cake for breakfast. What about your green monsters??? Go to Costco and get a Kirkland brand weight loss shake. That is where I am heading after I type this :-)

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  2. "I'm not writing because I'm afraid."

    AHHH it's perfect.

    I'm sorry about the rough times though =[

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