Are You Beatin' It?

So I went ahead and shared one of my biggest "beat its." Trust me, there's more to come. 

But how 'bout y'all? What dead horses do you beat? Let's hear 'em!

The Mother of All My Dead Horses

My first "beat it" is dedicated to the mother of all my dead horses. This Clydesdale represents the dissatisfaction I have with my own looks. I know that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. But it's really hard living in a society that judges women specifically on whether or not they meet a certain criteria: a criteria I will never attain.

I realized about a month ago what a problem I've let it become. I was all dolled up for a job interview standing on a corner downtown waiting to cross when I heard a male voice say, "You are so pretty." I didn't even look at him. I just rolled my eyes and crossed the street. That's not a normal reaction to that type of statement. He could've been the man of my dreams. Granted, based on my luck and past experiences, he was probably a crackhead... but still.

I have tried for years to accept myself the way that I am, yet I still come up dissatisfied. This dead horse is beyond decayed. I started beating it when I was still a child. I remember the exact moment I was first told that the way I was naturally wasn't ok.

I always had a "bubble butt." I remember being four years old wearing biker shorts (remember those from the 80s?) and my mother telling me that I couldn't go out looking like that. She exclaimed, "I just don't know where you got that thing!"

Then when I hit puberty, I started gaining a lot of weight. That really helped my self-esteem. My mother took me to doctors and they just told her to put me on diets. I finally crashed both mentally and physically when I was 16 years old. Turns out that all that time I had hypothyroidism which caused my metabolism to slow down... Which caused the fatigue and weight gain.

Funny thing though, once you start thyroid medication, the weight just doesn't come off. Oh, that's special. I lost a bunch of weight when I went to college because I was scared. I was 1000 miles away from my loved ones and when I get scared I just don't eat. Too bad I don't scare that easily. Plus, I went to school in Miami, FL. I didn't have a car with me freshman year so I was basically walking every where in 90 degree weather.

I was content with my body for the first time in years. Probably since I was a little girl. But then when I was a senior in college, I found out something extremely crazy. This led to the opposite effect; I gained back most of what I lost because my thyroid went caput again. That was fun.

Now that I have things for the most part worked out with my thyroid medications, I'm starting, little by little, to thin out again. It bugs me though that I let someone else's idea of perfection determine my self-worth. I do that to myself all the time.

My Top Ten Self-esteem Killers:

10. Jeans are snug or don't fit. I swear there's not a standard from store to store. It's a conspiracy. ;)

9. I get a breakout. Zits are the ultimate buzz killers.

8. I step on the scale. Really who invented that wretched thing? And how can I go back in time and knock him upside the head?

7. I eat a cheeseburger. They are truly yummy. Then I feel guilty.

6. I watch an infomercial. Does anyone actually ever lose a dress size in a week?

5. Read a magazine article about how Jennifer Aniston stays so fit and beautiful. Yeah, it's called a team of trainers, cooks, and stylists making sure she stays that way. I'm sure I could look a lot better if I had that too. And then I get mad that I don't have that. Vicious cycle.

4. Meet someone new. Get self-conscious that they are staring at all the places on my body that I hate.

3. Put on a swim suit. That's been a major bummer for years. I don't think there's anything wrong with a burkini. I'm down.

2. Meet a man I'm attracted to and inevitably think he'd never want to date someone like me.

And finally the all time biggest way that I let our society's notion of beauty determine my own self-worth...

1. Look in the mirror and sigh.

I would love to find a more positive way to beat that horse. Until I figure it out, I think the first step is always realizing you have a problem. I know that I should be receptive when someone calls me beautiful instead of rolling my eyes and thinking they are just "messing with me." 

Maybe one day I'll actually believe them.

Beatin' It

Welcome to Beating Dead Horses. You've heard that idiom, right? Well in case you've been living under a rock for most of your life... it means you're doing or thinking something that is pointless.

I am a master at beating dead horses. If I was an extra in Dances with Wolves, my character's name would've been Beats Dead Horses.  I have come to accept this about myself. I guess it just takes me a little longer to get over certain things. But I don't think I'm alone.

In fact, I have many friends who get stuck pounding an equine carcass (or multiple carcasses), too. That's why I've created this here blog. It will be a place for me to share my "beating dead horses" moments. Hopefully, it'll be a place for other women, maybe even men, to share their futile frustrations as well.

Everyone operates on their own timeline. And yes, sometimes that poor tune gets overplayed. But there's a reason it's on repeat. If your friends and family are sick of hearing it, come here. I say, "Beat it!" Beat that dead horse till it's just a gross bloated festering pile of rotting flesh with maggots. Sorry PETA. It's already dead, anyway.

And maybe, just maybe, the act of letting it out will help us to let it go.

Just Beat It!

Tara