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tossing that shadow

Saturday, December 13, 2014

I, I’m not the prettiest you’ve ever seen, but I have my moments, I have my moments. Not the flawless one, I’ve never been, but I have my moments






what im wearing: agent provocateur chiki bra & chiki briefs

I was the girl in the glasses, the girl with a mountain of books in her hands, the girl whose lunch got stolen by the cool girls from her locker at lunch. I was the girl in orthopedic shoes with a monobrow to match, who could only ever kick ass on the running track but hadn’t kissed a boy. Fast forward to university, I was the weird girl with an American accent from Spain, with a painful lack of a boarding school past and a collection of weird hats that got laughed at. I never really fit in – I never really felt quite right as a kid. I carried around my insecurities and they weighed me down, hey, sometimes they still do. Every which we way us women look, it feels like there is something beating us down, telling us we aren’t enough, or we are too much or at worse, nothing at all. Like most of us, I’ve starved myself, gorged myself to guilt, stayed with men just because they loved me – in fear they were the only ones that would. I never felt like I was enough and around every corner, it felt like there was evidence that I wasn’t. On rare occasions I would feel beautiful, practically invincible but those feelings quickly faded back into that shadow of self-hatred that so many of us cower under. And while I am not yet even close to wise, as I have matured, I decided to simply not give a hoot anymore. I took that shadow over me and tossed it as far as I could. Sure it comes slyly sneaking back, all the time, too often – but I can banish it. And so can you. I’ll work on myself, improve and grow in everyway I can – but ultimately, I am enough. You are enough. We are enough. I wouldn’t trade any part of myself for anyone else’s. I wouldn’t trade the sliver of fat on my stomach that keeps my organs safe, or my prominent nose or the tiny moles and freckles that cover my body. My terrible temper is the core of my passion and my obsessive personality, while dangerous, is what gives me my drive, energy and compulsion to keep going. I am strong, I am healthy and most days, I am as happy as can be. And so when Agent Provocateur wants to collaborate, and asks you to wear some of their beautiful lingerie – you don’t sink into that shadow, don’t worry about the width of your hips or how one of your boobs is bigger than the other. You slip it on, slick on some eyeliner and have some fun.


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