(image source: here)
First and foremost, I want you to know that you are beautiful – inside and out. What others say about your physical appearance, is a reflection upon them, and has nothing to do with you. When people attack your looks, weight, style or anything to that matter – it’s because they have nothing else to say about you and it’s because it’s a mirror of their own insecurities. It’s a mirror of the black soul and heart that they possess – not about the shinning star you are. Please know that.
In the past few weeks, I have ran into my fair share of negativity. It’s all from the same group of girls, which from here on out I will refer to them as The Mean Girls. The negativity that has been said to me, or forwarded from someone else in many screen shots from The Mean Girls – all have the same complaints about me: my looks, my weight, my tattoos – all about my physical appearance. Nothing else. Some of these comments were said over the past year (that I’m just now seeing) and the others, were said directly to me from a member of The Mean Girls in the last few weeks.
All of these attacks have been done via social media. I’m a very public person – always have been. However, with how large and widespread Ruffles has become, many more faces see my posts from across the world – which is amazing but it can be a curse. Many can see my posts and send hate, with just a click of a button. I do believe the internet and social media has only added fuel the ass holes of the world. I could never imagine sending someone, “you fat assed tatted up bitch” to a person. A person with feelings. A person, who has their own struggles and hurdles – that you know nothing about. I would hate myself. I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night, worrying if they are okay. In my twenty-seven years on this earth, I’ve never ran into so much hate, ignorance and plain out mean, bullying behavior. While, their words don’t personally hurt me, it does float around and they make me think. I’m not saying I’ve never been made fun of – I have, however, these words, these attacks, I’ve never had. They can hurt. They can alter someones life for the worst. That is not okay.
(left, my current weight, 172 pounds. right, my lightest weight of 139 pounds)
A member of The Means Girls called me fat. You know, she is correct. Well technically, over weight. I’ll give that to her. I’m over weight. On a good day, I’m 5’4 and this morning when I weighed myself, I was 172 pounds. According to the medical charts – I’m over weight. According to the media and fashion standards, I’m probably obese. I have hips, thighs and tits for days. Regardless of my size or how much I weigh – these are features I always have had. In my adult life, I have varied in weight from 139 pounds, to my heaviest at 208 pounds. In order for me to be 139 pounds, I have to physically work out twice a day, six days a week. I have to not only spend 2-3 hours a day in the gym, I have to eat spot on and not deviate. This is my body. My genes. It’s genetics. It is what it is. If it honestly bothered me, I would work hard; like I did years ago, to fix it. But it doesn’t. Years ago, I thought my size, weight, and looks defined me. I was young, insecure, and didn’t know any better. I surrounded myself with people, who made me feel like these things mattered. Well, big damn news flash. It doesn’t define me. It doesn’t make me a lesser, or better of a person. It doesn’t lessen the good deeds, the good work, and wonderful person I am. You judging my weight and size – makes you lesser of a person. It defines you. You show the insecurities you possess. It shows how ignorant and self centered you are and how you can’t look deep enough to love people for who they are – not for who you think they should be.
The Mean Girl posse has also stated that I’m ugly – this is something that has been repetitively brought up from Mean Girl to Mean Girl, throughout the past year. Okay, I’m ugly to whom? You don’t find me physically attractive, yet – what makes me ugly? Could it be my facial features? The features that have been passed down to me through my heritage and genetics? Maybe it’s my chemo thinned hair? Or, could it be my pale skin? What makes me ugly? I know it’s not the size of my heart and soul – cause they are too shallow and ignorant to look that deep and far. So, What makes me ugly? And, before you Mean Girls answer that, cause I know you read and stalk my page like a lion stalks a gazelle – please know, I don’t give a shit. I don’t care what physical attributes you don’t like cause your opinions are of no importance to me. What physically makes you uneasy, gives others flutters in their hearts. So, shut your gob. Not one person – regardless of physical features, attributes, style – is ugly. What is ugly is the heart and soul behind the judging eyes. You, my love, who judge others – is the definition of an ugly person.
I often don’t do my hair or paint my face. You will never find me in a nail salon or a designer clothing store. Cause, these things don’t matter to me. These things are not high on my priority list. But, before you judge someone, due to their lack of physical appearance and effort – think of why. One, people could not give a shit, like myself, about these items – or it could also be a deeper issue. I don’t do my hair often, cause it falls out. It falls out from my oral chemo therapy I take daily. I don’t go tanning cause I burn. I already have one form of cancer, I don’t need two. I don’t paint my face cause my skin is often dry and raw from my medication. I don’t spend money every two weeks getting my nails done, cause the nails prohibit my awesomeness in my day job and rescue. I’m often in yoga pants and a hoodie cause the thought of putting on tight fitting clothing on my incision site or feeling like shit – just doesn’t seem important to me. When I’m not in yoga pants, you will find me in jeans and a shirt or hoodie. But in all honestly, I’m not a shallow ass hole, who judges others. It doesn’t matter why, when or how one dresses. It doesn’t define them. It defines you, you judgmental prick.
My body is covered with tattoos. I’m very heavily tattooed. While, I personally don’t think it’s okay to judge another upon physical appearance, their sexual orientation, religion, color of ones skin, etc – this is one I signed up for. I knew, when I chose to tattoo my body in places that are seen by the general public daily, that I was opening myself up to stares, comments, judgements, etc. However, my tattoos don’t define me. While being heavily tattooed, I always have to be on the top of my game. I make sure I hold doors open. I make sure I say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ to complete strangers – because I want to break the mold of what the general public thinks of ‘tattooed hoodlums’. My chest is tattooed, my hand and fingers are tattooed – all in places it is really hard to hide without wearing mittens and a turtle neck. I knew the down falls of going down this path – however, it is what I find attractive, it is what I personally love and it is my body. My body. If it want to paint it purple or green – that’s my prerogative. I don’t judge you, Mean Girl, about your naked, dull, and bare body – why would you judge me? Does my untattooed, pale skin lessen the type of person I am? No. Then why would my purple, blue, black, orange, red and yellow alter who I am as a person? It doesn’t. My tattoos, tell a story. My story. While many of my tattoos have no meanings and some, like my portraits, have significant meanings – I can tell you exactly how old I was, what I was feeling, why I got it, etc. It’s my story. Leave it alone.
I will never understand the workings of The Mean Girls. While, I know what it’s like to be insecure, I could never fathom placing my insecurities onto another in hateful, bullying manners that they have done. I often wonder, do they say these things to children? To young girls who are very susceptible to the negativity? I can give two cents – cause I’m comfortable with the life I live, the path I’m going down and with who I am, but others may not be. They may be placing life changing and life long mental damage onto others, cause they are, deep down, ugly people. I may not be a beauty queen, but I’m a queen bitch on my derby skates. I may not be a size zero, but my heart is a size fifty and I try to give every inch and every roll I have to others in need. I may not have physical features that make your heart thump, but I come home and make the hearts of dogs who were given up on and left for dead, thump. I may be the most revolting person to you – but I could also be someones Cinderella.
If you, like I have been, are at the end of someones hate – don’t let it eat you alive. I know it’s hard. But please remember, that you are an awesome, loving, beautiful, sexy beast who will change the world. The negativity and hatred that “The Mean Girls” of the world spew – is not a reflection upon anyone, except themselves. They are shallow people, who spread their hate, their insecurities and their lack of morals and values – onto others, looking for attention. Don’t give it to them. Smile and walk away. Be the better person. Cause spewing hate back, brings you down to their level. Smile, say thank you, and continue about your day. I love you to the moon. Remember that.
One Fat Assed, Beautiful, Tatted Up Bitch