woman crush wednesday

I am a firm believer in aggressively supporting girls.  One thousand percent.
Girls are so fucking mean sometimes, like.. why be so hateful?
My woman crush Wednesday is always going to be my recently made friend, Lauren.
We have never met in person, and I actually only know her because despite lying in bed, looking at her photos and telling G how pretty I think she is, James embarrassed me and told her how I stalked her and thought she was pretty and funny and clever and I wanted to be her friend.
Turns out, I’m not embarrassed by any means.
This girl is someone you want to be friends with.
This is the girl you would want to hate because she’s so pretty, but she’s actually really nice and clever and you can’t hate her because she literally has no bad qualities.

So, now that we’ve established how great she is, let’s establish how great we are.
Let’s discuss nudes. and sexting. Let’s discuss how I will not send a nude to a boy.
So here’s the deal: sexting isn’t just about the male gaze, and sexualizing each other.
It’s about admiring yourself and helping the people you love do the same.

I don’t know when I learned to hate my body. I just know that unlike any foreign language class I  have ever taken, it’s been really difficult to forget.
Ask me to speak German after six years of education, and I will say, “Hallo, Ich Heisse Brigit. Ich habe eine Drache in meiner Hosen; ist sehr gefährlich. Nein, Ich habe keine Ente.
Google Translate will quickly tell you this means, “Hello, my name is Brigit.  I have a dragon in my pants; it’s very dangerous. No, I have no duck.”

If you asked me about my body, I could always rattle off twenty or thirty ways it was just not.. okay.

  • Nose: too big. comes straight out of my forehead.
  • Boobs: barely even existent. more like the chest of a fourteen year old boy.
  • Skin: too pale, too much acne. Sometimes bacne! Turns bright red and splotchy when I’m sad, angry, embarrassed or not feeling anything. Stress hives that cause even more acne. Basically the worst.
  • Knees: once described by a man as “knees my brother had growing up”.  I can only assume your brother had chicken legs, but I also know that I have scars and bruises that will never go away.
  • Generally: Too short!  Too clumsy! Like a foot shorter than my peers.  Yes, trying to blend in and go unnoticed is super easy, until I stand, or walk, or breathe, because I will most likely trip over/run into something soon.

In high school, I learned that thin was good, and thinner was better.
Food was something I could smell instead of eat, and if I did accidentally ingest that piece of pizza? Three hours on the elliptical could cure that.
Before I began to love myself, I was just a regular 21-year-old trainwreck whose dinner was sometimes two happy hour beers (Okay, three.) and a cigarette (Okay, five.) on the walk home.

Then, one day, I met Mr. Heart.
Mr. Heart was not the first man to say “wow” when I took my clothes off, nor the first to call me beautiful. He was the first person to show me what our bodies are capable of, and if you’re thinking I’m going to tell you a sexy story, SORRY, INSTEAD I’M ABOUT TO BUM YOU OUT SUPER HARDCORE.

For years, I watched my sisters growing up.  I watched their eating habits, I watched their fashion shows, and I watched them as they went through life.  I watched my sister have two heart surgeries, and I watched her body try to live.
I started to notice my own body.
Not what was wrong with it, for once, but what it could do.
As her body lie in the hospital bed, lacking ability to do anything, I found the beauty in my own body.

The girl who used to have cigarettes for dinner? She can run a mile. Three of them, actually! Slow as hell, but man, I did it. And every time my feet hit the pavement, I felt grateful for everything my body could do. I replaced my enthusiasm for weighing and judging myself with just straight up feeling myself.
Now? I can deadlift 135 pounds. I can run circles around my niece, chasing her while I screamed, “We are having FUN, dude!” as she just wanted to whine about how hot it was and if we could stop this “fun” nature walk.
These are things, by the way, I could have always been doing, if I hadn’t been so dedicated to trying to trick my body into being something it wasn’t.
All of those years, when I was definitely not as terribly ugly and deformed as I was sure that I was, I could have instead just been strong and happy to be alive, but, like my father always told me and I always rolled my eyes at, youth is wasted on the young.

My nose hasn’t changed, and neither have my boobs. I am still roughly 5 feet tall and have adult acne and turn bright red without any provocation. I also now have a pretty sensual amount of stress hives that lie under my skin waiting for the moment I can no longer handle things, but there’s something about learning to love yourself, and finding someone else that loves you as much, well, that really does a number on your confidence. It’s like getting an extra shot of YOLO.  The many, many fucks I used to give about my body disappeared, like poof!

So, the Winter when I met this incredible, confident, all around wondrous woman, she asked how I felt about nudes.  I am all for nudes, I am all for being confident in your own skin. I am all about sending nudes to those that won’t judge or expect more.
I’m not huge on PDA, but that’s a different story, actually.  So.. Could I be a stripper? No. I am comfortable in my own body, but can’t dance for shit.
Could I be a prostitute?  We’ll see.

Anyway, we kinda started sexting each other? Nothing weird or creepy, or what you would expect a sext to be, but rather photos of anything.  Everything. Because she’s just so cute and present and wonderful.
Every day, my phone dings and it’s a photo of this girl that I admire and adore.  Her new glasses, her makeup, her cute ass self doing cute ass things. Singing Songs, eating burritos or burgers, throwing in the occasional childhood photo that not only embarrassed you, but is probably something that should have been burned a long time ago.
This form of sexting is a way we can aggressively support each other.  It’s not the same as sexting a boyfriend or a husband or a hookup, and I am so in favor of it.
It’s just support, saying that we’ve still got it.  That “hey, your body is amazing, and it matches your beautiful insides, and you are a literal queen.”
It’s not a boy saying, “sexy” or “hot” or “boobs”.
This friendship with this girl is easy and effortless, and fits in perfectly with my lazy lifestyle.  This friendship is not one that we are constantly reassuring the other, “no, you’re not fat.  yes, you should wear that dress.”
This friendship is just aggressively supporting the other, being proud of even knowing this amazing girl who has done so much with her life. It’s someone you adore and admire, and want to be when you grow up.
I believe everyone with girlfriends should do it.
Everyone needs a Lauren in their life, but also, dude get your own.

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