When I was younger, but still an adult, I was obsessed with my body. It didn’t fit right. I had curves, sometimes too many, was never straight and bony and flat like a flapper or those girls with the right clothes and attitudes, the right everything that I wasn’t.

I’d sometimes lie on the floor pushing out sit-up after sit-up, take off my shirt, pinch my inches and break down into everything I wasn’t.

I’d sometimes write in a room with blue icicle lights strewn around my bed listening to Nina Simone and soak, like lady fingers dipped in brandy, inside the rich velvet of her voice and say to myself everything I wasn’t.

I wasn’t nothing, but what I am.

Two kids and twelve years later I’m looking at myself like a stranger on the beach and thinking things could have gone a whole lot worse. I’m thinking too that if there’s ever a time to break down the walls of self-punishment, this is it. There’s work to be done and it’s not going to happen gibber-gabbering about by-passed goals and things left behind.

All this crap I’m not is just going to have to wait for some other incarnation because I’m busy living this life and raising daughters good enough to know they are worth a whole lot more than an image in the mirror.

These girls, they’re the next generation of women. They’re smart and compassionate and honest and going to go through all the same frustration and agony and hope that we all did, but with one exception–I’m the mama now and ain’t no one going to make them feel fat or ugly or stupid on my watch.

No one.

And while I’m at it, I’m going to teach myself a lesson or two. I’m going to learn how to write through my own frustration. I’m going to step up even harder to rejection. I’m going to write and write and write until this story and whatever other story that wants to gets told. It’s only fair. We’re only just learning how to get what we want.


About E. Victoria Flynn

E. Victoria Flynn is a mother and a writer living in Southern Wisconsin. Published in a variety of venues, Victoria is currently writing the first in a series of three fantasy novels based on Cornish folklore. When not taking part in a shrieking dance party or engrossed in her own little fictions, Victoria is keen on art, the natural world and people unafraid to explore their own brilliance.
This entry was posted in adventures in childrearing, flying pigs, kids, Saved, Self-Reliance, truth and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

16 Responses to Blur

  1. ~Stepping up harder to rejection~ :: this resonates with me. To tell your story no matter what, even if–speaking for myself here–even if it’s *me* who would get in the way. Yeah. You go. Thanks for what you’ve said; it speaks to me as well.

  2. kario says:

    I love the way you have of expressing those universal themes we all struggled (and still struggle) with. I wish you well on your journey to self-acceptance and helping your girls to learn the same. It is such a gift for us to have daughters to help shepherd through with the lessons we learned the hard way!

    • pennyjars says:

      Thank you, Kari. I’m learning a lot from my girls starting with the oldest asking, “Mama, do you love Daddy? Do you love Azy? Do you love me? Do you love you?” I found out “yes” is the right answer to all those questions. 🙂

  3. You said it! The Bench applauds and agrees!

  4. Tiffany says:

    Good for you! I think that showing them the struggle as well as teaching them the goal of self-acceptance are both valuable. In many ways, as a young girl, I felt that my own mother had attained a perfection I would never be able to reach because I never saw that struggle in her. Teaching them the process of how to struggle is a good thing, in my humble opinion.

    • pennyjars says:

      Interesting way of looking at it, Tiff. Thanks for that. Although, do you think your mom might have kept it from you as a way of preventing your own critical eye? Once when I was very young I stood on the bathroom scale and read 45 pounds. I said, “I need to lose weight.” That’s what the girls in my house always said. My sister came back at me with, “Oh, no you don’t!” I keep this in mind, saying only that I need to exercise because it’s good for us and our bodies instead of complaining out loud of muffin tops and a flabby tush.

  5. Julie Jeffs says:

    Your girls have such an amazing mama to look up to. I hear your words about lack of self acceptance when we were young, even though I’m old now, such a hard lesson to keep on learning. Keep reminding those beautiful girls about what is important and what is right. Your writing makes me wilt, it is so lovely.

  6. Yay you on all accounts! Wishing you all good things in the coming year~

  7. Marta szabo says:

    Love the fierce spirit and use of words and freedom of the writing on this blog. Tx for reminding me to visit!

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