Pretty is as pretty does...

This morning I came down to sit at my computer to find a random site open. I presume it was left open by one of my 3 teenage daughters, but I don't know which one. The site was http://www.operationbeautiful.com/. As I began to read, I was impressed by the creator's mission to help random women, who are strangers, to overcome negative self image and sometimes paralyzing negative self talk. She and the others who have committed to do so, leave notes of positive affirmation in random places. It's just the kind of thing that I would do anyway.

As a person that has always "struggled" with my weight, I have tried diligently to teach my daughters that beauty does not come from a certain size, shape, color or age, but from a person's willingness to treat others with respect and kindness. I have always told them that they are beautiful, followed by "but pretty doesn't matter if you're not kind to others".

When I was 10 years old, my best friend, whom I thought was beautiful, was murdered. This is hard on anyone and you never, ever really get over it. Shortly after that, puberty hit and I was awkward and pudgy. Probably within a year or two, I had thinned out, but my self image had already been formed by the pudgy, awkward girl. I hated myself.

By the time I was 16 and filling out papers to get my driver's license, I was humiliated to admit I weighed a whopping 106 pounds. The number has been burned into my memory by the horrible feeling I had admitting I was over 100 pounds! Looking back, I see now that I was one of the smallest and actually quite average, but for some reason, I thought I should be shot!

Now, I truly am overweight and 75% of the time, I don't really care. I feel that I am a good person, I try to treat others well and I have truly realized that people come in all shapes and sizes. Have you ever noticed that a basically thin person who puts on a few pounds only has to think "I should drop a few pounds" and they do? And yet...the person who is basically naturally more curvy, only has to think about a Cinnabon and they find those pounds the thin person lost!

The other 25% of the time, I am still just as negative about myself as ever. Since I am overweight, I often say self deprecating things right off the bat so that nobody else can judge me more harshly than I have already judged myself. I think it is an unconscious defence mechanism.

Overall, I hope that my daughters remember their whole lives that relationships and integrity are all that matters. I hope that they have learned to reserve judgement until they know of a person's character. I have known people lacking in the surface, shallow, physical beauty that are among the most beautiful people in the world. I have also known some "beautiful people" that are very ugly indeed.

Turtle

Why is my url http://www.turtlesneedlovetoo.blogspot.com/?

When I was in fifth grade. (Grade 5 for all you Canadians!) I had a teacher named Mr. Kalumaji. Mr. Kalumaji loved sports! I did not love sports!

Near the beginning of the school year, my best friend was murdered, (That's for another blog another day) I turned 11 and put on a bit of 'puberty' weight after being a fairly thin child most of my life and Mr. Kalumaji decided that it would be a good idea to make us run a 50 yard dash every day.

First, we ran for a week every day to get a 'base time'. Then for the rest of the entire first semester we ran that dang 50 yard dash every single day, rain or shine. If the weather was too awful, he would set it up to run in the gym/cafeteria. Every day of every week, each student shaved a millisecond off their time...except me. My time stayed the same and sometimes was even worse.

Let me tell you, when I was born pigeon toes and knock-kneed, I wore special shoes until I was about 9 years old. When I was 2 1/2, I was enrolled in dance with the thought that the ballet would be therapeutic and fun. I loved dance! I became a good dancer (if I don't say so myself).

As semester wore on and I continued to worsen my running time, my self esteem plummeted, making me run slower still. One boy, Joe, told me I was as slow as a turtle. Soon all the boys were calling me turtle. After a while, even some of the girls called me turtle. I think they forgot I had a name. It was so hurtful that sometimes I would hide in the girl's bathroom and cry so no one could see.

At the semester report card time, I got my usual straight A's with an F in P.E.. I was so afraid to show my report card to my parents that I hid it for a week before my mother asked about it. Eventually I gave it to her and braced myself for the worst.

As she questioned me, I told her through my tears, runny nose and hiccups how we ran the 50 yard dash every day; how the teacher yelled at me for being slow; how the kids called me turtle.

"They are all good at running!" I cried "I'm just not good at running! I have other things I'm good at, but not running. I bet they would all get F's and I would get the A if we did...TAP DANCING for P.E.!"

It all turned out okay. My Mom called Mr. Maniscalco, the principal, and made an appointment to see him. She showed him the report card, explained about the 50 yard dash and my physical limitations. Mr. Maniscalco had a soft heart and a son with little to no athletic ability and agreed that I should not have received an F. I can't really remember what grade I got, I don't think it was an A, but Mr. Kalumaji did not force us to run the 50 yard dash again. For those that wanted to, they could, but a second option was made available to the run-haters like me.

To this day, I still WILL NOT run (unless someone is chasing me with a very big knife) and I would still love to see Mr. Kalumaji tap dance.

Turtles do need love too!