BODY BASHING - ELEMENTS OF SELF

Today's post for Elements Of Self - Least Favorite Body Part is done in jest.
Although there is always something for which I can find fault in myself,
I have for the most part accepted that,
to borrow a phase from Popeye,

"I is what I is!"

I am...imperfect

but

I am healthy

I am active

and

I am happy

all for which I am very grateful.

...but I can still body bash with the best of them

so

...lets take it from the top!

...drum roll please...

(I will keep my list limited to the "B's" in order to keep it short)

THE B'S OF BODY BASHING

The Beak

...too big

The Boobs
...too big

The hubby would argue
that these are my best feature
but he tends to think primarily with his "lower" mind
and he doesn't have to bra shop
nor
does he have to carry this rack around.
(did I mention that I'm pretty good at male bashing too?)

We'll just skip past the Belly rolls...all three of them.

And now for the grand finale...

The Butt!

Unlike Sam at Emerging Into Wholeness,
I do not have the courage to post a picture of my ass
wearing nothing but my undies.
That's one brave woman!

Join guest host Sam at Emerging Into Wholeness
for more Elements Of Self
- Least Favorite Body Part.

ELEMENTS OF SELF - FAVORITE BODY PART

This weeks prompt for "Elements Of Self - Favorite Body Part" required a lot more thought than previous weeks. Perhaps a fitting title should be "The Good...The Bad...And The Ugly" since this post is about what I feel I good about and actually like about my body while the next prompt will focus on my least favorite body parts. I feel like I have been playing a game of "Head and shoulders...knees and toes trying to come up with what I like...a very short list... while the self critical part of me can easily we pick apart all the things...cognitive, physical, emotional, and spiritual etc. about my self that I don't like. Generally the list shifts depending on the circumstances and where I am in my life. When life is a bummer it's is much easier to fall into a negative pit of self hating. Liking myself was much more difficult when I was younger, shyer and more self conscious but I have found that the older I get the less important it is to me. Perhaps I have finally grown into my body or maybe I have reached a point in my life that I just really don't give a shit anymore and accepted the fact that I never had an hour glass body...and I never will. I try to focus more on trying to keep my weight in check, staying active and eating a healthy diet because, saggy boobs, belly rolls, bad skin and frizzy hair I do want to stay in the game for many, many more years.

My Two Favorite body parts are:

...my wrist

...because no matter how the rest of my body fluctuates
from a healthy weight
to a heavier weight
after falling off the wagon,
my wrist never change,
always staying slender
...a reminder that underneath all the padding,
there is a little person.



... and my feet

...not much to look at and painful at times,
they keep me mobile and when placed in the right hands,
they give me immense pleasure.

I would have to say that there is little that tops
the pleasure of a good foot massage...

For More Elements Of Self join
host Juliana at Shakti Mama.

ELEMENTS OF SELF...UNVEILING THE ME IN ME

"Learning to be comfortable in ourselves
... to reveal intimacies,
and to show our faces."
Juliana at Shakti Mama

I have recently discovered a wonderful blog "Shakti Mama" by Juliana that I would like to share. She is starting a weekly or bi-weekly self-portraiture titled "ELEMENTS OF SELF" and is inviting others to join the challenge of "seeing the self in the world through self portraits." It is an opportunity to look inside ourselves to find our own inner beauty and learn self- love and self-kindness.

At first I thought, I could never do this but I have decided to just "suck it up"and go for it. Although the sense of openness is exciting, it also scares the shit out me. Typically a shy introvert, taking part in in a self portraiture is going way beyond my comfort zone. While exposing a picture of myself to the world is not a problem, posting one in response to a thematic prompt is more difficult. But Juliana is breaking us in easily with the first week's prompt...a mask self-portrait...we get to cover our faces. We're free to do what we want...just have fun. A mask self portrait is a wonderfully symbolic beginning to what I hope will be a journey of self discovery.

I chose to do a mask self portrait using my belly dance veil. In belly dance, the veil provides a sense of allure and mystery but for many, the veil, physical or invisible, provides refuge or a place to hide... a shield that separates our real self from the world.

So take a stroll over to "Shakti Mama" and say hello to Juliana, and join the fun.

HONOR THY NAME

WHAT’S IN A NAME?

Marisa - pronounced ma-REES-ah

I have a beautiful name. I didn’t always think this, but as I grow older I appreciate more and more its uniqueness. As a child I hated my name. I hated that other kids couldn’t pronounce it, hence I earned the nick name “Meecie,” or “Meece”, as my father continued to call me until he passed away when I was 40.

I hated that every time I got off the school bus at the end of the day, I was taunted with “Meecie Mouse, get in your house,” by the other kids.


I hated that there was no one who shared my name, and I longed for a more common name, like Julie or Katie or Linda…any damn name but Marisa, although I see the name Marisa popping up quite often in recent years.


I hated that all throughout school my teachers continued to call me
Ma-riss-sa and I had to correct them over and over again until they finally got it right, only to repeat the process all over again when a new school year meant a new teacher.

As an adult, I just gave up and for the most part ignored it when people miss-pronounced my name, especially those whom I was unlikely to meet again, but I have began lately to assert myself and not settle for being called by any other name.

My name was bestowed on me by my mother, not at birth, but at some later date. On my birth certificate and baptismal certificate, I was registered as “Marcia,” but for reasons of her own my mother started to call me Marisa. It was the only name I knew until I turned 16 and needed my birth certificate to apply for my beginner’s licence.

I’m not sure how my name change came about. One theory is that my mother read my name in a book after my birth and liked it so much she started using it. Another is that she wanted to name me Marisa from the start but bowed to pressure from her mother-in-law to choose a more acceptable name. I will never know. It is just one more of many questions I wish I had asked my mother when I had the chance.

Is it any wonder I have an identity complex. It made for a lot of confusion, remembering what name to sign on documents, to the point I had my name legally changed to what I had grown up with, Marisa, a name I now love and plan to keep. Perhaps some day it will be passed down to a future grandchild or great-grandchild.


The meaning of the name Marisa is - Sea Of Bitterness
The origin of the name Marisa is Italian

The meaning of my name, Sea Of Bitterness, is not a true depiction of my character or nature. I am not a sea of bitterness... a kiddie pool maybe from time to time, but most certainly not an ocean.

COMING OUT OF THE CLOSET

The time has come for me to finally "fess up." I am not who you think I am. Three months ago when I started on this blogging journey,I never expected that I would stick with it let alone generate a small following. Who knew there would be someone out there willing to read my shit. My fictitious name, "Marjean", was created out of fear and insecurity. I was afraid of rejection and insecure in my ability to come up with something worthy of a readership. "Marjean" provided some anonymity... a blanket against ridicule for my blogging efforts. In my mind, they would not be laughing at me, but some crazy old woman named Marjean.

I found that as my followers list started to grow, so too had my confidence. The wonderful comments to my post had given me the encouragement to continue on with something that started as a whim. My fear of rejection slowly faded...like a fart in the wind, and I found myself considering using my real name to take ownership of my blog. The pivocal moment came on the weekend, when my daughter said to me, "Mom, I would read your blog even if you weren't my Mom."

So here I am, "Marisa", fresh out of the closet and I feel free, liberated...the world is my oyster and I am a blogger!

You can read my blog if you want...or not...laugh if you want...or not...leave comments if you want...or not, and I will not feel rejected.

"I is what I is!"

I CHOOSE AUTHENTICITY

Today I have taken the pledge of authenticity. Realizing that I have a long way to go, I will work hard every day to be true to myself and to do what makes me really happy, regardless of what others may think is best for me. I will listen more attentively to my inner being and learn how to say "no" and not feel guilty about it. I will say "piss off" more often and feel good about it. I will dig in my heels when I feel I'm being pushed. I will try to be more honest about my feelings. I will strive to conquer my fears bit by bit and make more effort to step (or dance) outside my comfort zone. I know I am a work in progress, but I will get there, perhaps at a snails pace, but I will get there!

My next journey outside my comfort zone...I am seriously considering signing up for belly dance lessons.