Little kids. If NOTHING else good can be said for them on the days where you’d love nothing more than to sell them to the gypsies, you can still say that they are HONEST. Brutally, horrifically, embarrassingly honest. So honest that you may fear taking them out in public or asking for their opinions on… well.. just about anything.
Some people ask for advice or honest opinions and either completely ignore the answers if it isn’t’ to their liking, and some people really do want the truth- but the truth and the truth of a toddler are two completely different things. If you have children, you knew this already though; and I knew this… but occasionally I have a ‘derp’ moment and forget my better senses and ask anyway.
|this is NOT me.|
For some ridiculous fucking reason, the resort we chose to stay at during our Disney trip is the one with SIX pools. SIX! What fucking hotel needs SIX pools? The one dumbass me chose, that’s what. One might not see any issue with this… but I do. Why? Because I fucking HATE BATHING SUITS. I hate them! And since we spent exactly ZERO time at the pool during our last stay, dumbass me promised “next time!”- and dumbass me refuses to break promises.
To add some more dumbass to the pile of dumbassness i’ve already been stacking up- when it was time to go and try on bathing suits (because hell NO I don’t own one. It’s been my best avoidance tactic for years) WHO did I invite to be the one to witness me in some unforgiving lycra spandex creation?
Don’t give me that fucking look. I know it was a dumb decision, but at the time I figured “well, the kid sees me naked all the time anyways, how much worse can it get?”
And at first he was very complimentary. He even chose the bathing suit I ended up buying… which of course I questioned and him-hawed about even after I brought it home because I just felt icky in every single suit I tried on and had to pick the one I felt the LEAST icky in.
It wasn’t until we got home that he broke out the brutal ego shattering honesty that we are all so accustomed to having to face from children.
There are PLENTY of things you do not want to hear when you try on a bathing suit, topping out the list would likely be “you/your ass/your stomach/your thighs look fat!”- but Holden’s brand of honesty is not quite so to the point. He has a way of saying things that, to the outsider, may not SEEM so bad, but once you start thinking about it you realize just how deep the burn actually is.
His reaction to me upon trying the swimsuit on again just to make sure i’d chosen the right one?
“Mommy, you look handsome”
HANDSOME?! So… I look like a dude?? And suddenly every good thought I may have had about the swimsuit vanished.
I’d love to be able to look at him and snap back “Yeah well YOU did this to me!” because I know it would at least partially be true, but I don’t really blame him.
Stretch marks? I know there are all these pro-stretchmark ads going around telling you to be proud of your battle-scars, or to consider yourself as a tiger who’s earned her stripes… and if you think that I say more power to you! For me? Fuck all that, my stretchmarks suck and I fucking hate them- and my skin is stupid for refusing to have enough elasticity in order to expand without getting them. The excess weight and skin in the midsection? Sure I could blame blasting two kids out of my happy hole in two years- but I blame depo, that evil fucking whore. I was actually feeling pretty good about myself until going on depo, and I don’t care if it’s ACTUALLY to blame, after making me bleed for 7 months and putting on ONLY weight in my stomach, I will blame it for EVERYTHING. The random patches of cellulite? Fuck, even the skinniest bitches have that.
So what am I going to do about it? Am I going to sit here and settle and look “handsome” in a bathing suit forever? Am I just going to allow myself to blame it on children and do nothing about it because i’ve accepted it as a permanent reality?
Hell no! Like with anything else in my life I don’t like- i’m going to CHANGE it. Now, the stretchmarks might be quite the task or nearly even impossible without some kind of plastic surgery, but my weight is not- and if it makes me uncomfortable it’s gotta go. Period. There’s no use complaining about something that you have no intention to even try to change.
Operation “Look HOT in a fucking bathing suit (by MY standards)” is ON! Bad back be damned.
Thanks for your honesty, Holden. I’m hungry… and I DO blame you for that!
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