Today is my 39th birthday. Man alive, do I feel a lot of things about that. It doesn’t feel like a particularly friendly number. I am imagine I’ll write more on than another time. For now, I’ll share the lovely bits.
Namely, being spoiled by my lovely people, having a good old carry on with some rascals and a very excellent dress. I had an early birthday yesterday with my sister, bff and their babies. It was delightful. I love watching them play together. I hope so much they will always be friends. They were having so much fun that pictures really weren’t on their list of priorities. Contrary to appearances here, they do actually love their Auntie ly.
My best girls showered me with super cute pressies (they’re sure to festive in upcoming ootds). It makes me feel very loved to open gifts and find things I absolutely adore. People knowing you well enough to always know what you’d like is very nice. Having amazing female support that you can always rely on is even nicer. I’ve had these two by my side for almost my entire life and I never want to be without them.
Finally, there is that dress. I saw this ages ago, but couldn’t really justify buying it at the time. I didn’t need another maxi dress. When it popped into the sale my resolve weakened. Turns out I definitely do need this dress. It takes my yellow obsession into the new season and it looks banging. Plus I already had the perfect earrings to top it off.
Dress – Pretty Little Thing
Earrings – Monki
The dress is a bit more titty than I originally realised, but the girls are holding up ok. I’m not doing too badly for an old bird.
If you’re going to have a theme you might as well go all out. So, my nails got snakey too.
You know how they say you can’t smell your own perfume, so you have to careful now to wear too much? I feel a bit like that about my body. Specifically, my scars.
I’ve lived with the damage for so long that I cannot judge how severe it is. Mostly, I don’t think about my scars at all. They’re not a consideration in dressing anymore. I’m not ashamed or embarrassed of what they may signify. I usually find any rudeness engendered by my patchwork skin says more about the observer than the observed.
However, every once on a blue moon I have a moment. Often it’s my own doing. I catch sight of my reflection at an unusual angle or change under different lighting and I’m shocked. Horrified maybe. Not so much at my appearance as the fact that I did this to myself.
More rarely it’s as a result of another’s extreme reaction. A gasp or frightened look stirs much more than judgemental comments. When my battle scars scare others it stirs the old guilty feelings.
In either case it is doubt that knocks my confidence. I find it impossible to determine if my body is hideous or merely slightly disfigured. Without a clear grasp of what I have done I feel adrift. It takes me back to my days in the self harm trenches; never knowing how serious a wound was. Unable to grasp onto any equilibrium.
Am I a dramatic fool over nothing or inflicting horror on innocent parties? And which would be worse? The uncertainty shakes me. I feel an imposter. For all my proclamations of body confidence there are times when my self inflicted seams run deep.
I’m stuck in a moment right now. I fight the urge to hide. Steal myself against thoughts of splitting those seams open. It’ll pass. In the meantime I’ll have the long sleeve weather to regain my surety.
We all know we’ve fucked the planet. Hopefully most of us are trying to do what we can to heal our home. The kids did is proud with the climate change strike this week and we need to pull our weight too.
I know huge corporation and government level change is what really needs to happen, but in the meantime; every little helps. This month I have combined treating my nephews with giving the amazing a tiny wee helping hand. You can sponsor an animal from of your choice from WWF for just £3 a month. I opted for an orangutan & gorilla. The former because the baba loves watching a programme about orangutan rescues plus the Amazon connection. The latter because my bigger boy is fond of the majestic creatures.
In exchange for your monthly donation you will receive a cuddle toy of your chosen species, adoption certificate and face book. It’s actually a really nice gift for a little one. Fun, educational and teaches them about giving.
We need to keep fighting for large scale structural change. Whilst we battle supporting orgs that keep animals & their habitats alive is a good back up. Plus you can make someone in your life smile with a wee cuddly.
A couple of weeks my beautiful little Madison turned 2 years old and of course she had a party. It wasn’t only the Birthday girl who needed the perfect party dress; Auntie ly has to hunt one down too.
I found this polka dot delighted in Monki. I’m taken with this colour combo and I always love a tiered skirt.
Dress – Monki
Vest – Primark
Sandals – Next
The little ones had a ball with cake & balloons & bubbles. I snuck a little feminism into my present (yes, I’m that auntie).
I can’t believe how quickly all my little ones are growing up. I don’t know where all the tiny babies went, but it’s just so lovely to watch them all discover the world.
Glasses – Where.Light
Lipstick – Nyx
My dress always gave me an opportunity to break out this epic lippy. I think I pulled off the crazy Aunt look pretty well.
Today has always been hard, but this year is worse. I always thought I’d give you siblings & they would help remembering you to be less painful. It never occurred to me that I would be reliving your loss over & over again. I hope they’re with you. I wish you were all with me. I’ll always love you.
Every now and then I come across a phrase or slogan that perfectly encapsulates an element of my daily experience. Whenever I do I kind of want to wear it emblazoned on my chest. So, this time I did.
T – Shirt – Custom slogan by Paper Press Ireland.
The reaction to this T- Shirt sums up how common this behaviour is. Several woman enthusiastically complimented it. More men gave me looks. The only man to comment advised me that I was attractive, but I would intimidate men by wearing such a thing. I laughed as I told him I wasn’t looking for man & would never be interested in one who felt intimidated by honesty. I suppose it underlines what I already knew, masculinity is oh so fragile.
In case the meaning is lost, I’ll spell it out. I’m fat. I’m also fucking incredible. I was fat when you sleazed on me. I was fat when I turned you down. I was fat when you tried to insult me & I’m still fat when I mock you. I’m not ashamed. I’m not desperate. I’m not waiting for your approval. Oh & I’m not alone. Fat femmes are not seeking random male approval. We know our worth. We want none of your sub standard attention. In short, don’t poke the magnificent bear.