Under strict orders

Natalie from Definatlie has given us strict orders to keep on with this loving thyself theme. And seeing as my week of self-esteem posts died a sudden and terrible death ( illness and the week from hell) I'm snapping too Cap'n and listing away!

What I love about myself:

I love my strength of character. Even when I'm misery and convinced everything is awful and always will be, there is a tiny spark that knows I'll get through this because I always do.

I love my compassion, while sometimes it makes me hide away from the cruelty of the world, it's the constant drive in me to be a better person.

I love my hands, they are graceful and white and expressive.

I love my foolishness. I have the gift of play, I can tease and giggle and get up to mischief without being self-conscious ( sometimes)

I love my mind, it is fast and flexible and meaty. It will take me somewhere beyond the everyday if I just trust my instincts.

I love my cocoon that I have built around my beloved and me. It is a safe, warm space of love and trust. I love that I know how fragile it can be and how every day I am thankful for it.

I love my smile, it is wide and genuine. It is offered freely and often to strangers, friends and even people who MAY not deserve it.

I love my sheer joy and semi-inability at baking. It brings me such pleasure and I'm really not that good at it.

I love that I can dance. Like really dance. Like I'm the annoying person at beginners dance class who gets it in five seconds and becomes the teachers pet. But I love how it makes me feel and I love that at least I am instinctively fabulous at something.

I really like my butt!

And my kissable lips and grey eyes and red hair and pale, vampire like skin!

Ooo, I think deep down I might really like me.

I'm Bitchin'

Seriously why is this post so freaking hard? I'm playing along with Sally from GeorgieLove and making a week of posts about the marvelousness of me!

So this is day 3.... and this is post 1.... it's going well.

What makes it so hard to give yourself props? Yet when I go to write something about myself I have to temper it, i.e.- I'm pretty awesome, I'm kinda cool, I sorta rock! Why is it so hard to write the bald statements? I am awesome, I am cool, I definitely rock. I'm bitchin! 

Con-un-drum.

Who actually likes themselves? In a 'I don't spend my precious and finite time beating myself up internally every single day for not being smart enough, pretty enough, cool enough, enough enough' kind of way. Oh, none of us? Well, then this must be normal.

Normal is for losers.

I don't want to be normal if that means having to feel crap about myself any longer. Dammit.

I want normal to be no anxiety about what I'm wearing, what size I am, if I'm funny and witty in conversation. I want to stop thinking about how much better life could be if only I was thinner, spoke french, was outgoing and had Megan Fox-like charms.*

I want to stop and breathe and appreciate what I have in my life instead of chasing my tail wanting something, anything! 

So today I'm starting an adventure! Wanna come? I'll bring cookies

 

I'm gonna find me a beautiful pea green ( sea green?) boat and set off to find my self-esteem. 

Here's what I'm taking:

Me- 28, red of hair, size 16-18 of build, shy of temperament, intellectual of brain, kind of nature, loving of mischief, deep streak of sarcasm, good taste in shoes, ability to love loyally, excellent baking skills, no ability to stop eating the chocolate and a smile as wide as the sea.

Lots of honey and a little bit of money.

No map or compass.

Why? Cos I'm bitchin'. 

*Disclaimer- While Miss Fox is possibly one of the finest looking women alive I will admit to being quite concerned that she may not notice if she walked into a wall. But she is awesome and power to you, sister.

Mumsy's coming to town

Ah, the Mothership is arriving tomorrow! Its silly to be excited when I saw her a couple of months ago but really if a late twenties gal can't be excited about her Mumsy then there is something wrong with the world. 

See for my last two years of High School it was just Mumsy and me. My beloved Papa had just died and my big brother moved to Melbourne, so it was just us. We spent the first 6 months after Dad died sitting on the couch watching old episodes of Star Trek and holding hands. 

Now I live three hours away from her and shamefully don't visit enough ( cos I'm naughty) But also she got married again and got a life! Retired from work and now spends all her time traveling with her husband the bushranger! Shocking! Mothers with lives! 

She's coming down tomorrow to play for a couple of days. OOoooo, lovely. Also, she likes to buy me things. 

Mothers rock, its true.