I’m lonely today. A. is at work until two, so it’s just me and all the babies until she gets home.

I’ve been thinking about my body image lately. How much I admire beautiful plus-size women and the courage it takes to love your own body. There are days I feel so beautiful, when my makeup and hair are just right and my tits are overflowing a tight tank top and my lace panties are hugging my ass in just the right way and I wouldn’t change anything about myself. I have the music cranked up and I’m listening to Garbage or Placebo or The Veronicas and I know I’m going to walk away from the mirror feeling gorgeous.

Today is not that day. I wish I was the kind of girl who could feel just as beautiful in sweatpants, with no makeup and my hair tied back, but I don’t. Today I feel silly taking a shower and primping just to clean the house, but I’d probably feel a lot better if I did.

I feel like reminding myself that I’m not a whiny bitch all the time, but I meant it when I said I needed a safe place to talk. I hate feeling insecure and vulnerable, even with people that love me. Somehow, writing about it isn’t so bad, it doesn’t make me feel as weak.

In the spirit of reminding myself that I don’t always feel hideous, I chose a selfie (god, I hate that word…) as my picture of the day.




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