Insecurities Come to Life

Every time you’re angry, the thing you’re most insecure about grows.

Just think about it.

You’re at the grocery store, minding your own business and checking out the frozen pizza because you’re on a budget and don’t know how to cook. Anyways, you leave and get to the end of the aisle. Someone with a cart comes rolling down the hall and before they could see you, they roll over your feet.

You screech and fall to the floor, the pizza sliding away from you. You hold your throbbing foot to your chest, glaring up at the person who hurt you through blurry eyes. Past the pain, you find space for anger and suddenly, hair starts sprouting throughout your body. Long, thick, dark hair because you’ve been a hairy person all your life and happen to be very insecure about it.

Or maybe you’re standing outside in the sun, a donut in each hand. You’re taking a bite of both of them, savoring the flavor. You’ve waited 17 years to have a donut. Suddenly, you see two teenagers rushing down the streets on their long boards, and before you can step aside, one of them collides into you.

You cry out, falling onto the floor and your donuts falling into the dirt. Piping hot anger burns through your veins and now your nose is growing.

Okay, okay, but think of this; you have more than one insecurity and it all grows or enlarges themselves when you’re embarrassed.

You’re other half just dumped you in front of his family because they claim you’re too clingy. As you stand there, hopeless and defenceless, you’re stomach grows, making the button of your jeans pop out. Your ears grow until they’re bigger than your face and your feet are 12 feet long.

Wow.

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Raging War

There was no silence.

There was no peace.

There was no money.

There was no food.

There was no shelter.

There was just a raging war.

There was hunger.

There was anger.

There was bombs.

There was death.

There was doom.

 

You wanted a change.

They wanted hatred.

You tried to change it.

They tried to keep it.

You wanted fairness.

They wanted everything.

You said greed was wrong.

They said greed was the answer.

“The more, the merrier,” they said.

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Heart vs. Wallet

Your wallet is empty but your heart is full.

Your heart is filled with love and forgiveness and happiness. Your wallet has a few quarters to master up a dollar and three pennies.

Your heart has stiches from being broken and healing itself. Your wallet is falling apart. It’s holding on by a thread.

Your heart is beating. It’s perfectly healthy. Your wallet would find a new owner to fill it if it could.

Your heart found you someone who would love you forever and your wallet ward off those who would only love you till you had four quarters and three pennies left.

 

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Mirror, Mirror on the Wall…

Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?

The little girl chanted the question absentmindedly, giggling occasionally. Her chubby fingers ran through the hair of her thin Barbie doll. She sat criss-cross applesauce on the wooden floor that creaked at the softest movement.

The floor length mirror reflected her tan skin and toothy smile as she continued to babble about Snow White to the thin air.

“It’s her favorite movie,” her mother would so often say. “In fact, it’s the only movie she’ll watch.”

Sitting in her mother’s well lit room (courtesies to the sun), the little girl chanted the harmless words.

She was oblivious to the darkening room and the stirring within the mirror. Time seemed to have frozen as humans outside the four walls that little girl was cornered in stopped walking, talking, laughing. Their smiles stayed frozen on their lips, their tears no longer slid down their cheeks, their hearts stopped beating, waiting for time to start once more and resume their boring, uneventful life.

Everyone seemed to have stopped moving expect for the little girl, who pushed her doll around, repeating, “Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?”

“You,” a hushed, raspy voice chocked out. “You are the fairest of them all.”

Upon hearing the unfamiliar voice in the empty room, the little girls head lifted and rather than being met with her reflection in the mirror in front of her, she saw the image of pale woman all dressed in black. A golden crown sat perfectly centered on her head. The red stone around her neck seemed to glint even with the dim lighting.

“Hm?” the little girl said, tilting her head to the side with a confused look. Her fingers had stilled, no longer playing with her dolls. In fact, they were forgotten for the moment. To the little girl, the woman looked familiar. She gasped, her hands working once more as they collided together in a clap. She bounced in her spot, looking at the mirror with awe. “Evil queen! Evil queen!”

“Yes dear,” the unpleasant voice responded, her lips pulling back slightly. “You are my biggest fan.”

It was odd for a six year old to sympathize with the villain in the movie but low and behold, their sat in front of the evil queen now, a little girl who thought the queen had every right to be upset.

“Apple! Apple!” she squealed when a luscious, red fruit was presented before her.

“Would you like it?” The evil queen toyed.

“Yes, please! Yes!”

“On one condition.”

The little girl eyed the apple with excitement. In her small head, she understood the danger of the forbidden fruit and yet, she couldn’t wait to hold it in her little hands. Feel the power she knew the Evil Queen felt.

“Are you listening?”

Her wide eyes slowly lifted up to meet the Evil Queens.

“Good. All you have to do is say, ‘Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?’ Is that hard?”

The little girls head moves back and forth without breaking eye contact.

“And then I want you to reach inside the mirror.” The Evil Queen held the apple out in front of her. “And I want you to grab it.”

The little girl made a move to grab it.

“NO! You have to say what I told you!”

The little girl, eager to get her hands on the juicy fruit from her favorite character repeated the words she knew all too well. “Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?” She didn’t waste time reaching for the mirror. It didn’t occur the six year old that she was reaching for the mirror and her hands probably wouldn’t get anywhere past the glass.

But it didn’t matter.

Her chubby hands slid past the mirror, which rippled like water, disorienting the image of the Evil Queen, and searching blindly for the apple until they grasped something soft.

“Thank you, my child,” the Evil Queen said, grasping the little child’s hand in a painfully tight grip.

The little girl’s mouth opened in a scream and her body got ready to start trashing violently but it was too late. Her small body was quickly being pulled towards the mirror until she could no longer feel the floor under her bottom or the soft hair of her dolls.

“Thank you,” the Evil queen repeated, as she made her way into the opening of the mirror, into the real world once more where she belonged. Where she will rule once more. Where she will be feared again.

Now the Evil Queen stood on the creaking wooden floor, watching as the image of the little girl’s tear streaked face faded away and the room slowly filled with light once more. The earth started moving as did the human but little did they know how everything was about to chance.

Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?7

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Size Zero

I was reading a book and it mentioned how the mother of the main character wanted her daughter to be small in weight, and perfect and blah, blah, blah. I remember watching Mean Girls and hearing one of the girls get upset because they couldn’t fit into a size zero dress (correct me if I’m wrong).

For the longest time, I thought of that as a goal. One day I’ll fit into a size zero dress. I’ll be weightless and thin and pretty! 

Yes, my younger self considered thin to be pretty. I got poked at for my weight more often than not and looking back at older pictures, I think the biggest bully picking at my weight was…me. To this day, every time I see a picture from the past, I cringe, call myself ugly…blahblah.

I remember when I’d pray, the biggest thing on my mind was praying I lost weight.

Anyways, size zero still sounded appealing. How lovely would it be to fit into a size zero? Whoa. That would be great.

Reading that in the book earlier made me open Google and search size zero models.

I was mortified at what I saw.

These women looked like they weren’t eating enough. Their ribcages showed and all their bones. I am absolutely scared.

Not because of how they look; no, more so because I wanted to be that once upon a time. More so because I related thin to pretty. More so because for the longest time society said ‘meet this unrealistic beauty standard’.

***Feel free to correct me.

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He said…

He tore me apart, piece by piece.

He scattered those pieces into the light air, watching as those pieces blew far away.

He took complete control over my mind and body.

He made sure he broke me.

He made sure I had no one.

He isolated me.

He manipulated me.

He told me I wasn’t good enough.

He said if I left, there would be no one waiting for me on the other side of the door.

He said no one will care for me the way he did.

He told me no one will love me the way he did.

He told me no one would believe me.

He made me hate myself all over again.

I felt like my twelve year old self again, struggling to love herself.

I saw a pathetic woman’s reflection.

I said he was right.

I knew no one could love me the way he did.

No one would fight for me the way he did.

No one would love me the way he did.

No one would care for me the way he did.

It was impossible to escape.

Until I did.

And now, I’m on my knees, blindly searching for those pieces he had torn from me.

And now, I’m on my knees, blindly roaming the floors, trying to rebuild confidence and self-love.

And now, I’m on my knees, blindly picking parts of myself up until I’m whole again.

And I didn’t fall in love until I knew my worth.

***

Just something random I came up with. It was much better in my head.

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Children dropping the F-bomb?!

Children swearing is one of those jaw dropping moments when you’re not quite sure if you should laugh or scowled them.

I’m guilty of laughing at those extremely unexpected moments from the most innocent children who slip out a swear word.

So, here’s a story:

I was back in my second grade classroom. The end of the day was fast approaching. After snack, on a regular day, the students do some fun art activities but once every week, three classes join together and talk about respect, kindness, blah. (Don’t get me wrong; it’s great! I enjoy listening to what students have to say as well. It’s so adorable.”

Like I mentioned before, my class was second graders. They were seven and eight. When I was eight, I thought I was the so much bigger. Like I was a big kid. Looking at these seven and either graders, I realized how foolish I was. They were all so small and cute. At most, they reached mid abdomen. And I’m 5’3 (and a half—every inch counts).

Anyways, so during this time, a topic of forgiveness and mistakes came up.

Some kid brought up swearing and how people shouldn’t do it.

This brought a thought back to Rae (Let’s call him). He raised his hands and when he was chosen, he spoke. “My mom, she swore one time. Yeah, she said a bad word and she swore. She said…” and he dropped the f-bomb. No, I don’t mean he said, “She said the f word.” He said the full word.

Who whole class tilted. All the other children gasped simultaneously like they witnessed a bird fly down and eat a defenceless worm while I puffed out my cheeks and tried not to laugh.

Okay, okay, I know, I know! I shouldn’t have laughed. It was all a little kid needs to be egged on. But I was quiet about it and even turned my head away. Not that it mattered really. All the children were still in awe.

So, the teacher said, “Did your mom seem sorry about it?” she was trying to show the children that what his mother had said was meant to be a mistake but the kid, obviously not understanding, says, “No, no, she meant it.”

I was holding my breath and trying really hard not to laugh.

The teacher quickly recovers and says, “No, I know your mom. She’s a sweet woman and wouldn’t say that on purpose.”

He kind of just shrugged and before he can say anything, the teacher tried to pull a lesson that could be learnt out of that.

It was so unexpected because I didn’t expect him to actually say the word and furthermore, such a bad word. Definitely the highlight of my month (I know I said that in my Tim Horton’s post but whatever; now I have two highlights of the month)

QOTD: Did you ever hear a child swear? What was your reaction? What do you think is the appropriate reaction?

Hey, feel free to check out my last post. I did a review about “Say her Name.” (A book about Bloody Mary)

Link:  https://lifepaintingsite.wordpress.com/2017/03/19/say-her-name-by-james-dawson-book-review/?frame-nonce=c71ee2adc7

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