T-shirts

To this day, I remember Kristin L— in the bathroom at middle school, saying that the ideal roll for a t-shirt sleeve was two rolls up…

To this day, I still agree with her…

And I think of her just about every time I roll or consider rolling my t-shirt sleeves…

And, every time I think of her in this scenario, I have a fleeting moment of physical memory of my nervousness, my sense of not-quite-adequacy I always had around her… I envied her, and, at times, longed to be her (she, of course)… I watched her, observed her, taking in the lessons.

What did I love so much about her?

Well, she was somewhat popular, but it wasn’t so much that as the qualities and attributes that made her popular that had me longing most.

She danced.

I eventually became a world champion dancer (yes, I have an actual world title).

She did the French tuck with her t-shirts, and rolled the sleeves up twice, always looking fabulous.

I now do that when I feel like with my t-shirts (instead of being too scared of declared to be “copying”, and then not doing it st all).

She wore bras that looked feminine.

I eventually got there, but have found my own version of balancing feminine with natural and with comfortable.

She was confident in life (mostly, anyway… an air of general confidence, we’ll say).

I am comfortable in who I am, and am generally confident in myself and about life as a whole (though the rough bits get to me at times).

She had a Jeep destined to her, horses to visit, and a determined location for college.

I had lots of openness and no-idea-ness for my far future, and kind of still do…, but I embrace it as a dream board to collage nowadays… and I’ve been interning with horses, learning to care for and ride them, too…

All of this made her gorgeous in my eyes.

The comfortable self-confidence projects radiance from my own eyes, and I find myself staring at smiling me in the mirror on many of the good days, and even on some of the not-too-good ones… the rest of my accomplishments have little to do with the beauty I see and admire in myself.

Yet, there is still something about her that makes my insides feel clenchy and hollow and longing, whenever I think about her or her life at present… I still little girl style long to be more like her (she)… to be her (she)… even though I know I want to be myself… that little girl still longs for something unsatisfied in the relationship, it seems, and I’m not sure what it is…

Perhaps I could write her a letter, read it aloud, as though to her (but not actually to her), and then let it all go… perhaps that would handle it all for me.

Yes, I think I’ll give that a go next week (because I still have final papers for this week to do).

Wish me luck and freedom! 😀

Post-a-day 2019

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Dirty Dancing Magic

Have you ever seen the film “Crazy, Stupid, Love”, with Ryan Gosling and Steve Carell (among other familiar faces)?  (If you haven’t, you can watch it on Netflix!)  ***If you don’t want anything ruined from the movie, do not read this next part.***  Remember the scene where Emma Stone’s character asks Ryan Gosling’s what his line is for getting girls to sleep with him?  So, he finally comes out with the fact that he does the “Dirty Dancing” lift.  She doesn’t believe him, but they do the lift anyway, and, of course, she totally falls for him at the end of the lift.

So, why is this relevant?

You see, I do acro-yoga – at least, I have re-started doing acro-yoga again, after a three-ish-year break.  The other night, at a sort of practice/hangout session (called a “jam”), one of the guys offered to test out a certain standing lift with me.  It was not the most basic option, so we agreed to do the simpler option first.  And what was that option?  The “Dirty Dancing” lift.

It definitely takes effort from both parties to make it work properly, so the “Crazy, Stupid, Love” version makes it look too simple.  “Dirty Dancing” is definitely closer to the kind of effort it actually would take a newbie flyer/follow to pull off the lift.  I’ve done lifts in dance routines before, and even a throw/toss, so I’m practiced in the concept of lifts, but I’ve never done that particular lift in a routine.  Anyway, so it took a few almosts, and then we had the lift down perfectly.

And it felt like flying… or something.  I’ve never actually flown (I think), so I can’t actually compare anything to flying, but it definitely felt magical and like I was more than just physically ‘above’ everything around me – I felt like I was on a higher plane of life.  And, of course, that I was utterly beautiful in this specific position, muscles flexed beautifully, like a fairy zooming overhead.

And this guy helped me to be in this position – it was because of him that I was in such a place of wonder and beauty…. I suddenly totally could get why girls would want to ravish the guy who did that lift with them.  Fortunately, I knew the guy and the general activity well enough to keep him and the actual task separate from one another in my head.  Otherwise, I would have been a total mess full of goo-goo eyes for him for weeks.  But I fully understood what could be so attractive, so sexy, so desirable about doing that lift.  I mean, how often do people normally put me into a place of magical wonder, and make me feel more beautiful than the whole world?  (Perhaps your life is different from mine, but I’ll let you know: It is extremely rare for me.)  😛

That being said, I have two things: 1) Totally try out acro-yoga, because it’s a blast and is totally easy, even if you aren’t super fit or anything.  2) I recommend giving the “Dirty Dancing” lift a try at some point in your life, guy or girl, because it is magical and awesome (as I have already mentioned multiple times).  🙂

Post-a-day 2018

Sexy, not Sex

I think that I am afraid of being sexy, due to the risk of falling under the description of “sexual”.  I believe that there is a time and a place for sexy, and that it is an appropriate way to present oneself in the world… just not myself.  Or do I believe it acceptable?  …Yes, I do.  Sexy, not sexual, is entirely acceptable in my book, given the appropriate time and place.  As a teacher at school, no.  As someone at a dinner event, yes.  Being “hot” is not off limits to me, and yet I believe there is something deep inside of me that is terrified of it.  Of being it, I mean.

Perhaps I merely fear that it would be interpreted as a call for sexual intercourse, therefore not only labelling me as “slutty”, but also attracting unwanted advances by men toward that unintended message.  I want to be sexy, because I can be sexy, not because I want sex.  I want to have the body, because I can have the body, and I find the body entrancingly beautiful.  I don’t want it for some man, but for myself and for myself alone.  However, I do not want to have to hide it, to keep it only to myself and to avoid allowing others to notice.  I want to be able to go into public with it, because it is part of who I am, and I need not be ashamed of it.  Just as I have gone into public in my pajamas or with a towel in my hair, I want to be able to go out dressed in “sexy”: comfortably.

Yet where is that distinction between sexy and sexual for me?  i would say that it is intention, but I do not feel safe in such a distinction.  I do not want to have sex with the people around me, and I do not want them to attempt to or want to have sex with me.  But I am still terrified that I will come across that way.  Really, though, I must be kidding myself a bit here – I fear this regularly, not just when I dress up or want to dress up.  I have this fear present simply in the way I walk or the clothes I wear daily.  I envy the way some women dress, and cannot consider my actually wearing the same outfit… even though it is beautiful on them, and likely would be on me, too.  Why?  Because of this inner terror of coming across as sexual and desiring something specific (i.e. sex) from those around me.

What’s with me?  Is this really all just tied to one incident of things been utterly misunderstood about me?  I’d like to think that the one incident doesn’t have such power, if any, over me still today.  I’m not so sure, though.  I will consider this actively over the coming days and weeks…

Post-a-day 2017

 

As though in response to this post from last night, the world presented me with this article tonight, from a pile of my old papers through which I was sorting.

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A quality life

Life is beautiful, and I am grateful to have a role in it.  I worry at times that I am not using my gifts and talents to the fullest to benefit the world, and that I might reach the end of my life and feel I have not accomplished a satisfactory amount, given enough, created enough.   Though, I suppose quality is greatly important in the matter.  Nonetheless, is my current work in life (not necessarily my paid work, but my works, things I do in my life) of the quality that I want it to be?  Am I being the quality person I want to be?  Right now, I’m not sure.  It is something I have not really considered, I think.

I suppose I will consider it now…

Post-a-day 2017

Today, and also beauty

Today did not go really at all as intended, and yet it was wonderful.  I felt confident as a person, powerfully beautiful as a woman, and classily stellar as a guide to my young companion.  I want to look at today to see what made the difference for each of these things and more to have happened with such ease and success, which is quite different from the everyday to which I am accustomed.  My daily has become quite beautiful for me, however, there were elements of today – especially my comfort and confidence as a beautiful woman – that haven’t been successful yet in my day-to-day.  Perhaps I will discuss it all on here more later, but, for now, I’ll just mention that the “confidence” part of the beautiful woman idea is not a matter of being a confident woman; rather, it is of being confident as a beautiful, desirable woman.  I have experienced the beautiful, desirable throughout my life, but mostly with a pressing experience of embarrassment or ‘please, forgive me, I don’t mean it,’ or even ‘I’m sorry to be looking like this, and I am not trying to entice you.’

Anyway… my head aches incredibly, so I’ll sleep now.

Post-a-day 2017

Tears for Art

Today, I cried a decent number of times.  I was exhausted, and still am (Therefore, I will keep this short.).  However, I only want to reference one of the cryings right now.

A student gave me her small piece of art today, after I complimented it to her.  As I was gazing at my newly acquired work of art, looking into the face of the person in it, I noticed that tears were starting to brim, and there was nothing to be done about it.  It was beautiful, and I was responding in a way I usually do not respond to beauty, though understand and accept fully.

Now, I want that student to do a portrait of me, color and all.
Post-a-day 2017