Let's start a revolution.

Are these women not beautiful? 

Skinny women, curvy women... love yourselves.  You're gorgeous just the way you are.

Dearest Body,

You are truly amazing, if I do say so myself.  I just thought that today would be an appropriate day to remind you so.

Feet, how can I thank you for the many, many miles that you have carried me?  I promise I'll do my best from now on to keep you soft, smooth and comfortable.  How about a fresh coat of polish on those underrated toes of yours to give you a little boost?  Just prop yourself up there.  Take a load off.

Legs, no more will I subject you to the harsh scrutiny in fluorescent lighting and full-length mirrors.  You're strong yet soft, and you look fabulous in heels.  Rawr.

Hips, I promise to embrace you and feel proud that you are my own.  You are sexy but functional; thank you for providing the perfect place to balance my wriggling children!  Your curves are the epitome of feminity.  It's possible that you alone may be responsible for the fact that my husband has stuck around as long as he has.

Butt, you really know how to fill out a great pair of jeans.  I can forgive a dimple or two.  Besides, you go great with Hips and Legs.

Belly... oh, belly.  You may be a little softer than you used to be, but rock hard abs are not conducive to napping children's heads.  You've been stretched out to accommodate life (twice!), only to shrink right back down again (twice!).  You've been poked, pierced and prodded, starved and stuffed full.  I think you deserve a break.  No more will I deny you the occasional Twinkie.  It's okay, really.

Boobs, as the saying goes "The ol' gray mare, she ain't what she used to be!" I think we both (trice? thrice? three?) can admit that you aren't quite as perky as you were 10 years ago.  But look at all you've been through since then!  You've produced nourishment for 2 babies, endured numerous unsupportive torture devices, and provided hours of entertainment for my husband.  Of course you aren't quite the same!  However, the three of us know that you still have it... given the right bra, you make for an absolutely fabulous rack.  And from what I understand, you are still excellent playthings when the mood is right.

Arms, I know, I know... I've been known to call you "wimpy."  While it's true you might be a little on the (gasp!) scrawny side, you've provided many loving embraces.  Sometimes a hug says more than words, and nothing is stronger than that.

Hands, you are the spitting image (if hands could spit, that is) of my grandmother's hands.  You're strong and a little scratchy.  Moisturizer is nothing to you!  While I have wished for a soft, silky touch, as a young child I found that my grandmother's scratchy hands made for the BEST backrubs... perfect for drifting off to sleep.  I think that my own children might agree.

Face, I think that I owe you the biggest apology of all.  You've been picked, stretched, pierced, tanned, plucked, waxed and even slapped.  I promise to embrace the freckles, the laugh lines, and even, I suppose, the crow's feet.  You are, simply, ME.  It's safe to say that I've gotten quite attached to you.  You've laughed, you've cried, and your expression always tells the truth.  Every line, wrinkle, spot and scar tell the story of my life.  I promise to take better care of you from now on.  I kind of need you.  Despite what I might think sometimes, you really are beautiful.

Put simply, Body, you are unlike any other.  You are mine.  I've come to accept -- and love -- a few lines, blemishes, wrinkles and yes, even a little extra chub.  You are perfectly imperfect.  You are strong.  Amazing.  Unique.  Beautiful.  And don't you ever forget it.

Much Love,

Natalie

I wonder how many people will be turned off by that title and not read this one. 

If you're still with me, thank you.  I'd like to say that I won't disappoint, but, um... I can't promise anything.  I'm afraid there's not much depth here. 

So.  Ahem.  I am not 12 years old.  However, I feel like I should be.  I might as well just lay it all out there and get it out of the way already:

I CAN'T WAIT FOR NEW MOON TO BE RELEASED!

There.  I said it.  I'm tired of living a lie.  I loved Twilight!  The books!  The movie!  Teenage/vampire love/lust!  The vampires that sparkled in the sun instead of burning to a crisp like traditional vampires!  I can't get enough of it!

I was bound and determined to hate it.  I resisted for so long.  I finally broke down and added it to my Netflix queue, and when it arrived in the mail, it sat on my entertainment stand for a week before I put it in my DVD player.  I can remember thinking "I am going to HATE this effing movie" during the opening credits.  And then, much to my dismay, I was hooked.  I saw the movie and THEN went out and read the book(s).  How backwards is that?  Sigh.  I'm even disappointed in myself.  I made fun of people like me.  Then again, what did I really expect?  This is coming from the same grown woman who knows the High School Musical trilogy by heart. 

Shut up.  I have an 8 year old daughter.  That's my only defense.

Do you have any embarrassing guilty pleasures?  C'mon, now.  You know you do.  Image, schmimage.  Time to come clean.

I realized today that I've been doing things lately that I do not normally do.  Nothing shocking, just things that are not like me.  Just to name a few:

I've been watching House. 

I made french toast this morning, topped with syrup AND powdered sugar.

I folded my towels differently.

I bought apple cider at the grocery store yesterday.

No, not like me at all.  However, exactly like my mother.  Things she loved, things she did, and the way she did them.  Until today, I didn't even realize that I was doing any of this.  As I was eating my french toast this morning, something just clicked.  My heart felt heavy.  As crazy as it sounds, I think that it makes me feel closer to her.  I miss her so much.

It's only been 6 months since she died.  I'm already forgetting the sound of her voice.

This is probably old news, but I'm always the last one to hear about everything.  You've got to try it if you haven't yet. 

1. On your facebook page, scroll down to the bottom and click "English."

2. It should bring up another language menu.  Click "English: Pirate."

3. Laugh your ass off.

I'm keeping mine set to this for awhile... or at least until I start getting annoyed with it, lol.  I wish there was this setting for my entire computer.  Way to make things more interesting!  How fun!