False Humility, War Paint, Bellies, Nude Selfies, and More: My Self Acceptance Journey (So Far)

Hey, readers.

I had another blog in mind...one that was written almost in its entirety when I decided to scrap it completely and share what was on my mind. After all, my bedtime tea told me to...

As a few of you may know, I have joined a Body-Positive yoga studio here in Nashville called Curvy Yoga.  Being relatively new to my practice, I was relieved to be in an environment with women who all wanted to get in touch with, and appreciate our bodies.  This is a completely foreign concept to me.

Our mission statement over the fireplace.  I am forced (not in a bad way) to look at this through my entire practice. 

I have talked about the journey I have been on to accept "what is" my entire life.  As long as I can remember, my world has been surrounded by women who hate themselves.  I say this including myself.   Maybe it's being conditioned by the world around me, and listening to the women in my life that were supposed to show me what being a woman means, complain about their bodies that did it.  Who knows? A combination of the two perhaps...This lead me down the path of eating disorders, and a case of Body Dysmorphic Disorder at the tender age of thirteen.

Around thirteen is when the era of MySpace was really starting to take off.  Long before the word "selfie" was ever a thing, people took self portraits to use for their profile photos.  Remember those days? Where a bathroom photo usually involved an actual camera? I created a profile to keep up with my friends, and had the horrible realization that I actually had to take a photo of myself. The horror! I faced my fears and set up the self timer in front of my wall full of Beatles posters and posed. The cheap Kodak camera flashed three times and I rushed back over, prepared to see the monster that I saw in my mirror every morning.  To my absolute shock, the girl staring back at me in the camera screen  wasn't a mutant! Sure, her hair was big, and she had braces, but she wasn't half bad! Thus began my self portrait  journey.  I lived for getting dolled up and staging photos for my online friends all over the world.  I received praise, compliments, and felt my heart skip a beat every time I had a new Photo Comment. Remember those feelings? For the first time in my life, I felt like it was okay to celebrate and not be ashamed of myself.  A family member walked in on me taking photos of myself.  "You're so vain, Payton.  You're obsessed with yourself." This is the same family member that told me I was a "Child of God" and "Should be proud of his creation."

So, let me get this straight. I'm supposed to value, treasure, and love myself as a "divine creation" but when I celebrate it, I am "vain" You can see the dilemma that lies within being thirteen and terribly impressionable. Damned if I do, damned if I don't.

That's why my hair's so big...it's full of contradictory statements other people have told me. 

This way of thinking attracted a lot of real winners.  My last serious relationship's number one argument involved the rest of the world getting to see "The Payton that everybody wants to believe is real" vs. what he "had" to see. "The real Payton." Apparently, it was somewhat insulting that he had to see me not in six inch heels, full makeup, the whole nine yards. This created intense amounts of insecurity within myself (how could it not?)  to the point where whenever I would have to take my make-up off in front of someone else, I felt the need to give them a warning...as if it were the Elephant Man about to enter the room where I once stood...where most people either couldn't tell a difference, or thought I was being neurotic. I am only just now at the point where I know that I am wearing make-up because I like to feel more put together when I leave the house, not because I am hiding.  I usually won't wear it to yoga, or around the house, whereas I used to put on a full face at the beginning of each day, even if I had only planned to be alone...just so I could look at myself in the mirror and not feel ashamed.

Without, and with the war paint. 

With this insecurity came copious amounts of anger.  Anger at myself ended up being directed towards other people. If I hated somebody's band? I really hated them.  If someone smiled at me the wrong way, I was in a bad mood for days.  I am only now realizing this.  My hatred of myself was turned outward to hatred of others. This was terribly confusing for me.  So, I'm supposed to love myself, but not love myself too much because that made me vain, but only love myself with make-up on, love me in the mirror, but not in photos...all the factors that played into my already unhealthy internal monologue: "I will  be happy when I weigh this much.  I will be happy when I am in this size jeans..." NO WONDER I was so screwed up. No wonder I still have a conversation with myself that requires time to re-focus nearly every thought I have about myself.  Deprogramming is hard.

My current partner has honestly been a great help when it comes to my self confidence.  When he tells me I don't need make-up for him to find me beautiful, I believe him.  He likes that silly little birthmark under my eye I have been trying to hide for the last ten years.  He likes my bed head.  And he likes what's inside. And when you see someone else that can love you in spite of all of your flaws, it's much easier to accept them for yourself.  My partner is very intelligent, and I don't want to insult his intelligence by telling him he is wrong anymore.

Yesterday in yoga class, I had on a pair of leggings with an oversized t-shirt cut "Flashdance" style and a really tight tank top underneath.  As we went into forward fold, I could see down my shirt, all the way to my scrunched up belly. And for the the first time in my entire life, I thought my belly was sexy. It wasn't flat. (No one's is in that position), but it looked like the beautiful women of the 40's and 50's in bathing suits, it looked like classical paintings, it looked like a grown woman's belly.  Maybe it was the hip openers, maybe it was the fact I was surrounded by women much larger and yet still better at yoga than I that I still found to be gorgeous, maybe it was the positive atmosphere, or the fact I was having a great hair day, but I looked down at my belly and thought "Now that's sexy."

This is my belly.  I am usually too chicken to show it off. Sometimes it's flat.  Sometimes it rolls when I am in forward fold. Sometimes, it sticks out a little over the waistband of my jeans..But that's OK. I;m in good company.

I'm about to recommend something that sounds crazy here.  A friend of mine wrote a blog a while back about her weight loss journey (she makes my 50 lbs look like a sneeze compared to how amazing of a feat she overcame) and spoke about those "Damn, girl" photos.  You know the ones...you see them on your feeds...they make you say "Damn, girl!" or maybe you send them to your boyfriend, or husband while he is at work...I took the ultimate self portrait...a full on, standing nude.  I wasn't posed provocatively, I wasn't trying to be sexual.  I was doing the same thing that I did when I was thirteen and thought I had a mutated face.  I was trying to see what I really was.  I locked the door, set the self timer, and stood straight on. No angles, no fancy lighting, no filters...raw.  I held my breath and waited for the 5...4...3...2...1 Snap. Unlike I used to rush over to see my handiwork, I walked slow and heavy footed....almost afraid to see the result.  As I looked in the view finder, I started to cry.  My mirror had been lying to me yet again.  As I brushed a tear away from my eye, I said out loud, "Damn, girl." The girl in the photo had no make-up, she had a few stretch marks, a few odd freckles, and some scars from being terribly clumsy...but she was beautiful.  There was the masterpiece that has taken years to create.  There was the woman I had worked so hard to become.  I took a mental snapshot and deleted the image.

I eat insecurities (and glitter) for breakfast. Most days...

Is accepting my body as it is an overnight process? Not in the slightest.  I am still reprogramming my brain every day. I am having to remind myself that "Comparison is the thief of joy." and I am supposed to be in my body, not someone else's.  If I were supposed to be smaller, I would be.  If I were supposed to be taller, I would be.  The fact of the matter is that I'm healthy, I'm alive, and I've got just a little bit of extra love in my belly sometimes.  But the camera doesn't lie.  If being able to look back at myself in the reflection of a view finder and not beat myself up, not cut down every inch of my body, not belittle myself, and not absolutely despise myself makes me vain, then start singing the Carly Simon song to me...because being able to feel like I am not a failure, like I haven't let myself down, and that not only am I adequate, but I am beautiful? I'll take that over false humility any day of the week.

And let's get real, I probably do think that song was about me. :)

Because sometimes, you just gotta ask the mirror if your outfit works for you that day or not. 

(Damn, girl.) 

Unintentionally Intimidating: The Payton Kemp Story

Two posts in a week, readers! Aren't you the lucky ones? No, but really...

Yesterday was my birthday, and I spent the afternoon with my mother and Arrow having lunch at my favorite vegan eatery in town.  As we chowed down, I leaned in and asked her the question that would spark a nearly two hour conversation.

"Mom, has anyone ever told you you were intimidating?"

"Oh, always."

"Yeah...me too. I've had two people tell me this week I was. Weird."

My partner told me a few days ago that I was intimidating.  I laughed. I laughed hard. I was standing in the kitchen with no makeup, my hair all over my head, washing dishes in tree pose and wearing sweat pants. So scary. When I prodded him for further, he said it was because I was pretty, because I was pretty sure of myself, and I am terribly opinionated, and tend to voice these opinions probably more often than I should.

My friend Andy said the same thing.  I met Andy at a record collector's show nearly three years ago. I was waiting on a friend of mine who was late, and I went ahead and started looking without him. I was the token girl in the bunch (as usual) and someone mentioned Henry Mancini. I looked over and saw Andy holding the "Charade" soundtrack and I said "Oh, I love his 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' soundtrack. I get ready to it all the time." and I saw him tense up a bit, look at me like I had three heads, and then proceed to proceed with caution. By the time we started making jokes about The Seekers and I broke the ice by singing "Georgy Girl" at him, we were fine. When I asked Andy later why anyone would tell me I was intimidating, he said "Pretty girls don't talk to me. Also someone who is so super sure of themselves can come off as intimidating, but that's not a bad thing per se."

When I asked one of my best friends in the world about this same subject, he responded with "Of course you're intimidating. When I met you, I was scared to death! You're 6 foot 100 and are smart, and witty, and have the best taste in music of any woman I have ever met. Now, of course, knowing you, I realize you're a big geek like the rest of us, and you're not so bad."But, he finished it off with "This is why all of your friends' girlfriends hate you." So there's that. 

I've seen what intimidation does to the other side of the coin first hand. My mom is stunningly beautiful.  She looks like she could be my older sister, not my mother.  She is always dressed really well, make up done, and looks her best whenever possible.  I get this from her.  When I would go to school functions, I saw her isolated by other parents, and even at my sister's soccer games, the "soccer moms" would say "Oh, look, the Kardashians are here." (My mom does kind of resemble Kris Jenner) instead of saying "Wow, Kelly is such a beautiful woman. I admire the fact that she's had two kids and still takes time to make herself feel good." it made them feel bad about themselves. So, they lashed out.  From about 20 on, this has been my life story too. 

I spent my morning singing Monkees songs at the top of my lungs, I spent my afternoon talking with a fellow stylist about the importance of lycra, I genuinely can not wait to get home and start a new book that I got for my birthday. I was more excited over owning pants with Mick Jagger's face on them than I was about mostly anything yesterday. I had a conversation this morning that was nothing but puns.  I tripped on my own feet this morning. Twice.  These don't scream someone who is intimidating to me.  It screams "Giant nerd with coordination problem!"

I mean, it's kind of hard to not get excited over pants with Mick Jagger's face on them when you're as big of a geek as I am.

I had to stop and think.  When was the last time I was truly intimidated by someone? I saw a beautiful woman come into the store I manage the other day.  She was a few inches taller than I, and terribly thin with beautiful bone structure, great hair, and a bag I had been lusting after for years now.  She went and tried on an outfit, and came out, saying "I would kill for your body. I can never fill out clothes like you could." And that's when I realized that there was nothing to be afraid of, nothing to be threatened by. Or there was the period where I was dating terribly broke musicians.  One in particular had a group of five or six different guys that were all in his same boat...struggling to make it on their own, so they had very wealthy significant others to take care of them.  To a young woman like me (one in which that concept was more foreign than patchouli in a room full of Chanel) I suddenly felt like I wasn't good enough to date, because I wasn't able to support not only myself, but any future partner who may come around.  After that, all women who made more money than I intimidated me. 

I think women are programmed to be in competition with each other.  The Feminine is not meant to be in this state of mind.  As women, we are supposed to be nurturing, caring, open, and appreciate the differences in each other.  Instead, we are constantly trying to out-do the other. If someone more attractive (or in my case, who made more money than I) came along and starts talking to your boyfriend? Oh, forget it.  No matter what the person is really like, that woman is a bitch. At least that's what our insecurities tell us.

I wonder how much of the world we are missing out on because we are intimidated.  I wonder how many friends I would have had if either one of us weren't too scared to say something.  I wonder how many trips people would have taken, how many terrible day jobs would have been left behind to peruse a passion if being scared of the unknown hadn't sunk in.  And what I really wonder, is how many people have settled in any area of their life because of it.

When I think about this, I think about that scene from an episode of "Sex and the City" in which all of the girls go through the line to say congratulations to their newly married friends.  The bride bids them farewell with the standard "Thank you so much for coming. You're next." etc. etc. and when she gets to Carrie, she hugs her, and says:

"It's always better to marry someone who loves you more than you love them."

Have I been guilty of letting something scare the living daylights out of me? Yep. Have I not gone after what I wanted because of it? Yep. One of my friends told me that FEAR was "False Expectations Appearing Real" How many times had I played it safe? How many times had I talked myself out of speaking to an attractive person because I "wasn't good enough" or "smart enough" or "rich enough".  How many times had I dated beneath me in looks, brains, or goals because I was worried I wasn't worthy, and that if I went after someone like that, surely they would leave me because that's terrifying? More times than I could count on my toes, your toes, and Mr. Arrow's (and he has four paws, so that's a lot.) 

The world tells you to be confident, but don't accept compliments, it scares people, and means you aren't humble. The world tells you to be beautiful, but not too beautiful, because that scares people.  The world tells you to put effort in to your appearance, but if you do too much, you must be a snob.  (If it is, then call me a snob. I've been called worse) So, for me to be a bit larger than life (in all areas...height, hair...hair height...personality) probably is super intimidating.  I finally understand where they are coming from. 

I am actually an introvert with extroverted tendencies in spite of what most of the world sees. If I am comfortable in a situation and feel like I have some sort of control, I am personable, charming, and relaxed.  If not, I clam up, shut up, and shut down.  I go into my head where it is safe...it is full of glitter and rainbows and rockstars up there.  Nothing can hurt me there. I was also raised in an environment where I was around a lot of "somebodies" who were older than I am that lived very exciting lives that weren't foreign to other people. For me to speak to one of them about Oprah being filmed in my store the other day, they have been there done that.  For someone who didn't come from the same background? They accused me of bragging, and being "too good for them." (intimidation?)  I developed a way of speaking to adults, and important people in "the business", and to this day, can speak to an artist, photographer, engineer, stylist, etc. with no problem at all.  Put me in a room with a bunch of people my own age who do "normal" things? I have nothing to contribute to this conversation.  A lot of people often mistake this for me being insincere or rude, when really, I am just examine the situation to see if there's any place for me in it. I also tend to look people up and down when I speak to them.  I am looking at their hair, their nails, their shoes, clothes, eye makeup, jewelry, whatever...this isn't because I am judging them, this is because I am taking it all in.  I have always been naturally curious (ever since I was a kid...I used to look at everything all of the time, and didn't speak until I was four...not because I couldn't, but because I simply didn't have anything of interest to say) I can see how this being mysterious and bitchy thing comes into play. Although, as my dear friend did say:

I thought about the friends I had who were truly intimidated upon meeting me...the ones who are a crucial part of my life today...The ones who accept all of my glitter trails, music geekdom, and the fact that in order to change batteries in a smoke detector, all I need to do is put on a pair of heels to reach.  These are good quality people...and the fact that in spite of being "intimidated" by me, they still tried to get to know the real me shows me that I need to be more brave when it comes to situations that I am not necessarily over the moon about.  Like everything, it's a work in progress.

I'm glad I didn't scare them all too badly. My life would sure be boring without them.

Life Lessons From 22

Well, readers, I am on the last day of one of the most insane years of my life thus far.  A lot of you will say, "Oh, pshhht. 22? You're just a baby. What have you possibly gone through that warrants this post?"

22 has been the most challenging year of my life.  I have had to question every belief I have ever had, fallen in love with myself, fallen out of love with myself, and much more.  I have lost everything, gained it back, lost it again, been robbed of money, friendship, and most importantly, trust.  I have had thousands of dollars, and I have dug for quarters to pay for gas.  I have been to both coasts in a matter of three months.  I have stayed in five star hotel suites with unlimited room service in some of the most beautiful parts of the country.  I have sat in the floor of my house with nothing but beans and rice with just me and the cockroaches.  I was engaged, and then I was single, and then I was in a relationship again.  I had nothing, and then a dog found me.  I had promises of being a millionaire's trophy wife, and then I had an overdrawn bank account.  I hated my body, then loved it, then hated it again. I went up and down.  I hung out with rock stars,  and then I couldn't get any one of my so called friends to return my calls.  I quit my job, was a bonafide freelancer, and then managed to manifest my dream job. I gained some of my best friends, and then lost some.

Nothing is more exhausting to me than extreme highs and lows.  So, needless to say, when anyone saw me this year, I was either on the verge of passing out from sheer exhaustion, or drinking a coffee the size of my head.

In the middle of this process, I went through the cliched "spiritual awakening" This included studying for hours about psychology, spirituality, yoga practice, and much more.  It is impossible to go through an awakening of this nature without gaining some sort of knowledge.  As I flipped through the journal I started on January 29th, I realized something.  I had learned more this year than any other year.  Here is what I learned:

Then again, doing yoga and aligning chakras is incredibly difficult when you have a bundle of cuteness next to you. 

Love is a choice...Love is a verb. 
Of course, there's the old expression "You can't help who you fall in love with."  and that is true.  However, falling and actively loving are two completely different things. To love is to be in the act of appreciation.  Love is first, energy, then what it manifests vibrates in positive focus and appreciation.  It's really easy in the modern society we live in to be in a mindset of "Grass is greener." With the internet at our fingertips, it's terribly easy to compare your relationships to others.  "Oh, so and so just posted that they are with their mother on a vacation, their relationship must be perfect." Or, "Oh, the girl from high school just got engaged to her gorgeous boyfriend with a ring the size of her head.  Her life must be so great." And if we don't water our own grass, one day, our lawn is going to be dried up and dead.  Instead of peeking over other fences, we should instead, turn on our own sprinklers. When we focus on appreciating our partners with positive focus, love for them will come much easier.  As will love for ourselves.  And we can choose where we focus our energy on. At first, love chooses you, and then you must choose to keep it alive. Words are wonderful, and the right loving words can move the darkest of clouds on the bleakest day, but unless someone puts their actions behind what they are saying, the words have no weight.  Love is an action. Love is a verb.

The time I flew to Jersey on a day's notice with no money, because I needed to be with my family, we walked along the Jersey Shore at midnight. 

 It is not wrong to desire.  Desire is good.
The world makes us ashamed of our desires.  Spiritual teachers and gurus say that desire is bad, because it never ends.  The fact that desire never ends isn't a problem! The desire for progression and growth is healthy.  No desire ever killed anybody, unless they thought they couldn't have it.  A lot of people thought I was clinically insane for choosing to quit my job in February.  I DESIRED a job that would make me fulfilled, encourage creativity, let me be myself, and in return, share my passion with other like minded individuals.  I wrote down exactly what I wanted.  I wrote down how many days I wanted to work, the neighborhood I wanted to work in, how much I wanted to start off with, and the requirements I desired out of my job.  I had several people start to prod at me for "laziness" or "having a huge ego" in waiting for what I desired.  I knew it was coming.  I acted like it was on its way.  I'm not going to lie to you, readers.  The waiting was terrible.  I was thrown into a deep depression when I started to feel financial pressures, and something like a check not arriving when it was supposed to for work I had already completed? That was enough to send me to bed all day.  I still kept the faith.  I was not destined to sit at a desk in a cubicle.  Let others lead that life.  But not me.  I know that if you don't achieve what you desire, the universe doesn't get to expand! If you don't line up with what you want, you can't give birth to new desires.  It is in the universe's best interest to line up with what you project, so the universe can grow and move forward! If we as a human race never desired for anything--be it knowledge, or the quest for cures for medical ailments, or the songs that never would have been written if it weren't for desire. (And let's face it, what's more important than a damn good song? Not much.) I have also learned that I can not surround myself with people who are complacent and have no desire to better themselves. I think that as a race, we are constantly evolving, and need to constantly strive to better ourselves...spiritually more than anything, yes.  But when we stop chasing after our
dreams, we die.

I used to desire a closet full of Betsey Johnson dresses. A work in progress, but here's my favorite. 

I desired a small fluffy shih-tzu like my sweet baby I lost. Here he is at my dream job. 

The day I filmed Oprah at work. 

It is not a disadvantage to be a woman, it is a privilege. 
As an American Woman (I bet you started singing, didn't you?) I am bombarded every damn day of my life with articles about how women are at a disadvantage, be it financially or otherwise.  Now, given, I don't live in a country where they mutilate my gender's genitalia, I am a woman in America.  And being a woman is the greatest thing ever! Instead of fighting the feminine traits that the world tends to frown upon, I have embraced them.  I could go on and on about the breakdown of the family unit, and my views on modern day "feminism", but this is deeper than that.  This is about the Divine Feminine.  Woman's purpose is to nurture, inspire, to literally bring forth life.  We are not meant to perform the same roles our counterparts do, and we certainly aren't meant to do them as a man would.  Femininity is not weakness. Our culture puts so much shame on being a woman.  My body doesn't betray me, nor is it anything I should be ashamed of. My cycle doesn't make me weak, or "crabby".  It makes me more intuitive, more aware of everything.  Instead of making an enemy of what most consider weak: vulnerability, irrationality, and being emotional, I embrace it.  Being upset with a woman for having emotions is like really wanting a car, and getting upset that it came with an engine.  Being a woman is incredible.  On a spiritual level, being born female is a blessing.  How wonderful it is that I get to be so in touch with my body, my mind! How beautiful it is to be vulnerable, intuitive, sensitive, nurturing, and inspiring! And how wonderful to be able to appreciate men for the qualities they have that I don't, only to have them value my differences back! To be put on a pedestal and worshipped as a goddess instead of fighting about what is different...That is where I have found peace. I'm not speaking literally me standing on a pillar and having men fan me with tree branches while they feed me grapes.  (Although, I do love grapes) Instead of focusing on how "It's a Man's World" and embracing my true womanhood, I have gained more respect, instead of feeling like I am fighting it. In this, I have attracted a few more like minded female friends (something I have never had before) and for that, I am grateful. It is good for the soul.

LA with CSN and company. Dream dress, All access pass. Who would have thunk?

Six year old Payton could only dream of having cocktails with the Monkees. 

Roger Manning Jr and Jason Falkner of Jellyfish in MY Mother Church for the Beck show. I got paid to do this?? 

I am a judgmental bitch. 
I am fully aware of this.  I am a huge judgmental bitch.  I judge people on their looks, their taste in music, how much they drink, how bad their tattoos are, if they are a dog or cat person, their diet, their shoes...This comes from me mostly being the hardest critic on myself.  It's true.  From someone who has dealt with most of the "self esteem" related diseases...BDD, eating disorders, social anxiety, depression...You name it.  I think that most people (at least the ones I have discussed this with) do suffer from Judgy-Bitch syndrome, but they rarely vocalize it.  My lack of filter is great in a lot of ways, and my true friends appreciate and love this about me. When I started really embracing my feminine energy, a lot of this went away. Most of my judgement is on myself. I could be taller, I could be thinner, I could be prettier...stuff most women go through. The other night, I pushed myself out of my comfort zone and wore a crop top that I didn't feel stellar in, and I was picking myself apart all night. I demand so much of myself...I have always strived for perfection.  Perhaps it was an exposure to Hollywood starlets, or the fact that I have seen perfection personified in my job. I don't like imperfections or flaws. I have a legitimate fat phobia, and I refuse to buy jeans that are a double digit ever again. I understand that these are all things I need to work on, but this is what contributes to Judgy-Bitch syndrome.  There's usually a reason behind every comment I make that makes someone uncomfortable....usually.  Like I judge people who drink a lot because I had an alcoholic stepmother for a good portion of my childhood, when people don't put effort into their appearance, it irritates me because this means this will become acceptable, and my job is threatened. Stuff like that.

However, bad taste in music and shoes, there are just no excuses for these. :) I am slowly trying to learn to keep my mouth shut in mixed company, and bitch about what's bugging me to a fellow "bitch" if you will. I said I would get better, I never promised a 180! Ha!

January 28th 2014--The day I took my freedom back. Celebrating with bitch face and booze. 

22 wasn't all bad as a matter of fact, readers.  It was exhausting for the most part. It was also nothing like I had dreamed it would be.  It has been better for the most part.  And, sure, my inner Virgo doesn't like this place of transition, but I have travelled places I have never seen, lived some incredible experiences that no one else has had the privilege of. I filmed a segment for Oprah. I have the most perfect little fur child in the world for me.  And I have a pretty fantastic, emotionally mature partner who shows me he loves me every day.  I'm fitting back into my "skinny" clothes more often than not, and in spite of losing so much this year, I have gained more friends, more love, and life lessons that I wouldn't trade for the world. 23 looks like a lot of good concerts, working on my career, my yoga practice, and writing the life that I want. But, there's another thing I have learned from 22...sometimes life gives you not what you want, but something much greater.

And sometimes, life gives you someone who will hug you so tight, all of your pieces come back together. Someone who will accept all of your imperfections, glitter, and even embrace the dog that makes him a look little bit less masculine than a German Shepherd when he walks him, and one that will order you Mick Jagger yoga pants, because he understands.

Cheers, readers! 

The Old Payton (And Why She's Never Coming Back) and Unanswered Prayers

Hey, readers!

Wow! I am so blown away by the responses to my last blog. I feel that being open with you guys is a step forward in my recovery, and discovering my authentic self.  Thank you for every kind message, email, and more. I really appreciate it.

Like I said before, I have a birthday coming up the first week of September.  (The 5th for anyone who cares. Also, I like glitter, money, and things with dead rockstars and arrows on them) Birthdays are a time of reflection, reexamination, and rebirth for me.  I took my sweet little fur baby for a walk today and as I watched him scamper along, I thought of all the joy he has brought me these past few months, and how he has been a huge step in my healing process.

Two of the biggest joys in my life the last six months: Yoga, and Arrow!

I had a thought as I watched little Arrow take ME for a walk.  I remember crying into the shoulders of my loved ones over the last few months about "This is not the way my life was supposed to go...This isn't what I had planned..." I even managed to make a few new friends during this process, and I remember telling them "The Old Payton is much cooler. You would have loved her." Meaning, that the person I was before going through times of trouble was much more carefree, and didn't break down in tears at the drop of a hat, didn't want to spend days on end watching Oprah in bed, and certainly was more attractive because her waist was smaller than New Payton.  As I watched Arrow sniff his millionth bush, I had a realization.  Old Payton is never coming back.  And thank God for that!

This is my walking the dog outfit.  What? The shoes are only four inches tall. My friend Yamel even sketched this snap of us! 

The Old Payton didn't have a network of friends who unconditionally loved her. She had a group of people who sucked the life out of her.  Sure, there were gems sprinkled in there that still sparkle to this day, but the dull, mean ones have fallen by the wayside.  Old Payton didn't have the love of her life, Mr. Arrow to be her companion everywhere she went. Thank God for Arrow. Old Payton didn't take time to do things that made HER happy, instead she did what made everyone around her happy...and sacrificed her happiness, and her health for them. Old Payton didn't listen to her heart.  New Payton knew that she needed a break, and gave herself one.  Old Payton beat herself up for her appearances.  New Payton is learning to be better at accepting her body, and being grateful for it.  And so on and so forth.

Old Payton would never let anyone else photograph her in a bathing suit (and even New Payton makes it like pulling teeth, but obliges anyway.)

There is an old expression "Thank God for unanswered prayers." and I never really understood the concept of that until now.  If my life had gone the way I planned it a year ago, I would be pretty stagnant, pretty miserable, and bored out of my mind...not to mention still depressed, angry, and lacking in faith.  I wouldn't have Arrow, I wouldn't have started my yoga journey,I wouldn't have people in my life who are so crucial to my well being. Over the past six months, I have collected some of the most loving, non judgmental, nurturing, and most vital people in my life.  I don't know how I survived without them, and don't care to know how my life would be otherwise.  These people came into my life for a reason, at the right time, held my hand, let me cry on their shoulders, fed me, and took care of me when I couldn't do it for myself.  They saw the spark of light that was hidden under all the darkness and sadness that had tried to snuff my glow out.

If things had gone my way, I wouldn't have spent this spring/summer on both coasts of this country.  In a matter of three months, I've strolled Venice Beach, and the Jersey Shore.  I wouldn't have had the opportunities in my career that have blessed me so much, the new perfect job that has manifested itself with my hard work and faith, and the biggest of all? I wouldn't have felt happy.

Jersey Shore last month, visiting members of the Rock N Roll clan who make my life better by just existing.

For me to say the words: "I am happy." is a huge step.  After spending nearly two years of settling, of waiting on other people to reach their full potential, I realized that I was dulling my shine to make others more comfortable.  The other day, I was driving back home from the job interview I had just nailed.  The most perfect job.  The one that I had dreamt of something like it existing for years.  The windows were down, and the Stones were on the radio...and that's when I felt it.  It started in my toes, moved up through my legs, my belly, and finally to my heart.  Butterflies.  I felt bliss.  For the first time in nearly two years, I felt bliss.  I wasn't worried, or fearful, or trying to convince myself of anything. I felt at peace.

I felt like my sweet boy on the hottest day of the year in a kiddie pool full of ice water. 

I pray a lot more than most people would think a girl who doesn't believe in church would do.  I pray every morning when I open my eyes.  It usually goes something along the lines of "Thank you for allowing me to wake up.  Thank you for the love that surrounds me.  Thank you for the dog that woke me up in the first place.  Thank you for the food I am about to eat.  Thank you for the clean water, the electricity, and the healthy body you have provided me with..." and then followed by the list of people I want to have a great day.  I've done that every day for nearly the past six months.  I've learned to stop being specific for what I think I need.  "God, if you could only make him..." or "If you could make this happen for me..." is bargaining.  I realized, you can't bargain with the Creator.  I even had a terrible night...the first night in which I had so much to drink that I threw up, and I remember bargaining with God that if he would spare me any more pain, I would never drink that much again.  (So far, I've held up my share of that bargain) But instead, have unwavering faith.  Even with my bank account in the negative at one point, I knew deep down that I was going to be provided for.  Even when I was on E in my gas tank, and the fridge was bare, I knew I would be fed, and taken care of.  And I knew that when I felt the time was right, I would have the perfect job laid out in front of me.  It was once I stopped bargaining, and trusting the Creator was always going to know what was better for me than I did, that I started receiving the knowledge and wisdom I needed.

It's hard to not feel grateful when you wake up to this hugging your arm. 

Thank God for unanswered prayers.  Thank God that Old Payton isn't coming back.  Thank God for rebirths, and new beginnings.

And Thank God for Arrow. :)

An Open Letter To My Body:

Hey, readers.

As you read in my last blog, I am going through a transformation this year.  I am coming to grips with things that need to be...well...gripped. This year has been one of nothing but change, and it has taken its toll on my body.  This time last week, I spent half an hour poking and prodding at myself while looking at my reflection and cursing.  "I hate this. That is too big.  This is too small. Why don't I have a torso?" and so on and so forth.  And that's when I realized, I was a bully.  I was a body shaming, fat phobic bully.  I was no better than those trolls on the internet who hide behind computer screens and make fun of people.  As a handful of you know, I have my fair share of issues with my body.  One being an ever so slight case of BDD.  Meaning, I look in the mirror and don't see what other people see.  This, oddly enough, is why I got into modeling.  I trust a photo, but not a mirror.  (This is why most of my friends who see me get ready know that I always take a photo.  The camera doesn't lie.) The ritual of beating myself up has become as commonplace as brushing my hair, or putting on makeup...And that's when I realized I owed someone an apology.  That person was me.

Dear body.

Hello.  It's me.  Before you start thinking this is just going to be me singing a Todd Rundgren song at you, it's not.  I believe we need to have a word.  And by a word, I mean two words.  I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being a complete and utter asshole towards you.  I'm sorry for hour after hour spent in front of the mirror poking and prodding at every inch of you.  I'm sorry for not trusting that you were enough.  I'm sorry for the hateful words I spat out at you.  I'm sorry for calling you fat.  I'm sorry for wanting to change you.  I'm sorry for every meal I followed up with a scoop of ice cream because it made it easier on me to throw up entire contents of my already terrible meals.  I'm sorry I harmed you...I really am grateful for how well you healed.  I'm sorry for sleeping in my makeup.  I'm sorry for the days of starvation.  I'm sorry for the nights of binge eating.  I'm sorry for the years of Diet Coke abuse.  I'm sorry for not treating you like the sacred vessel you are.  I'm sorry for letting people who didn't worship and adore you touch you.  I'm sorry for letting society's idea of beauty creep in my mind and make me think less of you because you weren't photoshopped and perfect. I'm sorry I didn't value the strong, long legs you have, which has made my spiritually uplifting practice of yoga much easier.  I'm sorry I took for granted the ears you have that helps me listen to my music which brings me so much joy.  I'm sorry I make fun of your eyes for not working properly.  I really am grateful that you cooperate with my glasses and contact lenses so well so I can see the world crystal clear.  I'm sorry I criticized your stomach that protects all of my vital organs.  I'm sorry I criticized my wide hips...I do hope that one day they will make childbearing easier on me if you'll allow it.  I'm sorry I begged for thinner arms.  The ones I have now hold me up in some of my yoga poses, and allow me to cuddle my sweet fur baby, Arrow, and hug my wonderful friends.  I'm sorry I have criticized my nose.  It really isn't that bad.  I'm sorry I've spent years trying to hide that beauty mark under my right eye, calling it an eyesore.  I'm sorry I haven't owned the fact that I have stretch marks...when really they are only from growing so tall so quickly, and that's nothing to be upset about. I'm sorry I spent years hiding under sweatshirts and baggy pants because I was so embarrassed about you.  I'm sorry I complain every time I get a cramp during those times of the month, when really, I should be celebrating that I am finally healthy.  I'm sorry I have taken all of the beautiful gifts of health that you are for granted.  I'm sorry for the last year that I have put you through...I'm sorry for all of the stress, anxiety, toxins, and negativity I poured into you, and the trauma I invited in with open arms.  And I'm sorry for not thinking that you are as beautiful as you really are.  

Can we make up? Do you forgive me?

Signed,
Your spirit trapped in you, Payton.

P.S. This was you two years ago, and then you last week. Don't forget how far you've come. 

Readers, I recently joined a Body Positive page on Facebook...Create Your New Self...full of women who were on the verge of drastic weight loss changes.  Two years ago, after going vegan, I dropped a significant amount of weight, and went from a size 14 to a size 6.  After the year I just went through, and all of the stress I had experienced, I found out I had adrenal fatigue...basically, my body has had enough of the stress hormone pumping through my body, I eventually wore it out.  This causes mood swings, depression, anxiety, and weight gain.  So much of my weight loss journey was in hopes of finally feeling worthy....finally being able to look at myself in the mirror and seeing what I have always wanted to see.  After going through this strenuous year, I gained some of that back.  I felt lost, hopeless, and like my identity was being stolen from me.  I was Vegan-Payton-Who-Lost-50-Pounds now...not just Payton.  It's still a struggle every day to wake up and like myself. I think a lot of it is programming from society...we are taught if we love ourselves, it is narcissistic...when in reality, obsessing over everything wrong about you is narcissistic.  It becomes all consuming, and that's when things start to turn for the worst.  Did you know that the average woman is bombarded with 400 ads a day for products that will make her more attractive? Now, don't get me wrong, I am all about some glam as much as the next girly girl, but I think that's a little extreme.  We can't help but turn the pages in our glossy magazines and see a perfectly photoshopped model or celebrity and sigh.  I'm guilty.  It's what women do.

I had a moment today in shoulder stand during my yoga practice where I had an "a-ha!"Now, in shoulder stand, you're on your shoulders, balancing everything else up in the air.  I saw everything.  I saw my sparkly toenails, my calves, thighs, my stomach all bunched up on itself...and I guarantee anyone that walked in the room would probably have found it unattractive. I most certainly did not look like the gorgeous instructor on my DVD, but I had a moment of clarity.  My body is literally supporting itself.  No one is doing this but me.  My body is standing on its own without help from any beauty product, makeup, or another human being.  And that's when I realized that it was beautiful.

What would you like to say to your body, readers?  Would it be about your stretch marks that are your battle wounds from bringing your children into this world? Or your laugh lines? Tell me in the comments below. I urge you all to do the same.

And just a reminder:

And I wish I could send Babs to tell you every single day when you look into your mirror:

Love you guys,

P

Dear Inner child,

Hi, readers!

As some of you know, I have a birthday coming up the first week of September.  Most use the beginning of a new year to reboot and start fresh.  I, however, like to use birthdays as a time of reflection, growth, and to check in with how far I have grown in the last year.  I have alluded on here before to some of the difficulties I have faced this year.  When you research the number one stressors: moving, job change, loss of loved one, breakup, financial struggle...you name it? I've had it. And so, this was the time where I thought "Right, time to fix this.  Time to take some time to restart my system." And so, I've gone through what I call "Granola Therapy"

Now, Granola Therapy is basically what I use to describe everything I am doing in my healing journey.  Yoga practice, journalling every day, speaking with an actual therapist and healer, studying psychology , diet, and finally attempting to get meditation under my belt.  I can now successfully touch my toes, avoid gluten at all costs, and have journal entries that are notes upon notes of my readings that have titles like "Psychosomatic Illness caused by Porous Ego Boundaries due to Narcisstic Parent" and many more. I'm treating my healing like it's a full time job.  Mind. Body. Spirit. 

In this process of my Granola Therapy, my therapist figure told me that all of us still have an inner child.  Our inner child is the reason we feel useless emotions such as fear and guilt.  The illnesses that can stem from guilt are endless, and include things such as depression, eating disorders, self harm, and on and on.  Here I was, thinking that my problem was one thing, when really, it was something that stemmed back to my childhood! Imagine that! She encouraged me to write a letter to little Payton.  The little girl that still lives inside of me, much like your little self is still in you. When revealing several problems I have struggled with over the years to her, she said it was my inner child, mourning over the loss of a childhood I never had.  The thought struck me as odd.  Didn't I go through puberty? Wasn't I an adult now? How does one go from infant to adult with no childhood in between?  She asked me to pick a time there was a great change and shift into my life.  Write a letter as an adult on the outside, giving advice to her.  It was after I did this, I felt a great cathartic release.  I think that if more people did this, it would help them.  So, here I am, laying it all out for you, readers.  Here is my letter to my inner child:

Dear Payton,

Greetings from your adult self.  I know this is a bit odd to receive a letter from you in the future, but work with me.  And for the record, you'll always be the tallest girl in school, but that's OK, because people pay you for it now.  Also, you have a super cute dog now too, so there's that. I suppose you're wondering why I am writing you, don't you? I know how inquisitive you can be.  I am writing to you to give you some advice on how to deal with some of the things that will be coming your way.  It may get lengthy, but here it goes:

You are not an accessory.
There are going to be times when you feel like your sole purpose in life is to be a supporting cast member around someone else's movie where they are the lead.  This is bullshit. (By the way, you swear now.) You are your own human being who is entitled to your own feelings, thoughts, and actions.  You can dress the way you want to, speak your mind, and don't you dare let anyone try and shame you into believing otherwise.  You are not a prop in a play that stars anyone else.  You are not meant to enrich someone else's life.  You are meant to live your own.

People who love you won't manipulate you.
You're young right now.  You need clear, direct communication.  Anyone who twists words, sulks, or tries to make you feel guilty for not doing things the way that they want you to do them is abusing you.  You may not feel hurt now, but years later, it will devastate you. You know deep down that you're a good girl.  So, stop trying to make everyone else happy, because it will never happen. Ever. Reminder: Guilt and fear are useless emotions.

Your body is not broken. There is nothing to be ashamed of. Also, sex isn't dirty.
You're about to become a woman, P. You're going to be in the guest bathroom of your Dad and Stepmom (or as I refer to her, Stepmonster's) bathroom, and you're going to get your period.  It's going to be painful, and scary, because no one prepared you for what was supposed to happen.  You'll call your grandmother, covering the mouthpiece with your hand while you whisper it, because you will feel that anything that comes out of your vagina is dirty, and shameful.  Not true.  You'll read up on the subject for hours and hours, and be the only eleven year old who knows all about ovulation.  This is where you become obsessed with research.  It pays off in the end.  I promise.  Your body is doing what it was intended to do, and it's a beautiful thing.  Also, everyone who tells you that sex is dirty is wrong.  They've just had terrible experiences.  Just make sure you do it with people that you love and who love you back.  Everybody does it.  Nothing shameful about it. Girls have urges too.  Not just boys. Own your sexuality instead of letting it own you. You aren't a "bad girl" for feeling like a human being. 

People who love you will protect you.
There are going to be a few instances that no child has any business in seeing.  This is where our childhood ends, I'm afraid.  You have to step up and protect yourself, because no one else will.  You may think that people are on your side, but really, they are just using you.  You are working on how to deal with stress and anger right now, little P, because no one was a role model in teaching you how to do so.  But, you're getting better. I wish that I could pop in and take you out of the years you are about to face, because it's ugly.  This is where you establish your worth as a woman, and as a human in general.   This is where you grow up because somebody has to be an adult.  And you do it way too soon.  And I'm sorry you have to see it. 

You are allowed to do what is right for you and feel no guilt about it.
You march to your own drum, P. Always have, always will.  You do things that aren't typical of the suburbia you were raised in.  And thank God for that.  You know what is best for you.  You know what is best for your body, your brain, and your soul.  There are people in your life that are going to try and break down your walls, and try and make you question your beliefs because they make them uncomfortable.  Stay strong. Feel sorry for their ignorance. And know that it is absolutely okay to remove yourself from situations that are painful for your own sanity.  It really is.  No guilt.  

You're so stinking beautiful.
Seriously. When I look back at photos of you from this time, I think of how beautiful you are.  I know that it sucks growing new body parts, and hair in funny places, but you really are.  The boys make fun of your eyebrows, but that's because they live in the suburbs and have no idea what high fashion is.  I hate that when I look at those photos I see a beautiful girl with pain in her eyes.  I think that the pain is only obvious to us, but it's there.  This feeling of not feeling worthy, or good enough because you're not as thin as the other girls, or as pretty in your mind as they are will not go away.  But, I promise you that one night, there is going to be someone who loves you very much who is going to hold you while you cry about how fat you think you are, and brush away your tears as they tell you you're wrong.  For the first time ever, you will feel it.  I promise. So stop making yourself sick, stop counting calories, and for God's sake, stop comparing yourself to that girl from your theatre class, because she looks horrendous now.  (You're welcome :) ) 

Don't lose track of your dreams, and don't lose your faith.
You were whispered to on the playground one day, remember?  You were told what your calling in life was.  Don't you dare ever lose that.  Don't let anyone tell you that you are not destined for greatness, or aren't good enough, or talented enough, or pretty enough.  These people are scared of you, and what you know.  They are intimidated by your ways of doing things, because they make them question their own.  Don't ever, ever let anyone make you feel that you aren't worthy of what you know you were supposed to do.  As far as faith goes? We know that God isn't some bearded old guy who lives in a church building.  We know better. You know there's something out there bigger than you.  You feel it.  Don't ever lose that.  Don't ever stop believing that you will always be taken care of, and always keep a pen with you, because you know when you're deep in ink and paper that that's when it talks to you. 

I vow to do the best of my ability to protect you, inner Payton.  I know that you've been hurt, afraid, and felt like no one is on your side.  I'm here to step up and defend you, nurture you, and make you feel like everything is OK, because now? You live inside of me.  So, chin up, because it does get better.  Also, start eating your vegetables sooner. The stuff you're eating now is why you're so miserable.  

Love,
Payton

I challenge you guys to do the same.  This has been a terribly therapeutic process for me, and has really helped to deal with some issues that have creeped up here lately.  What would you tell yourself as a child?

Love you guys!
-P

Embracing my Divine Feminine: The Role She Was Born To Play

I laughed as I heard the voice at the other end of the phone said:

"Your problem, Pay, is that you're been neglecting your divine feminine."

HA! I was sitting around waiting on my Tiffany blue toenails to dry, with half a pound of green crap on my face, drinking out of quite possibly the world's girliest mug, stroking my cute little fluffy dog.  I had just had a shower in which I sang Nancy Sinatra songs at the top of my lungs.  I had watched an Audrey Hepburn movie in the last 24 hours. My body was currently having the "Yay! We're not pregnant!" party.  If there's anything I didn't think I was doing, it was doubting my womanhood.  I mean, I have sneezed glitter in the last two days.  How on earth was I not feminine?

The voice of my caring and very patient friend then explained to me that judging from the circumstances I have been dealt in recent past, and how I was dealing with them currently, I have been putting Her on the back burner.

My friend then rattled off a list of things that the Divine Feminine represent: restoration, life, renewal, creation, nurturing, receptivity, compassion, understanding, intuition, harmony...and many more.  She then listed a few things that had to do with modern society's view of what womanhood was all about (high heels, makeup, dresses, being a wife/mother, cooking, cleaning) I then responded with "Oh, being a housewife?" to which she replied "No.  That's where society gets it all wrong.  Neither the expectation of a housewife, nor a radical feminist are correct in how women are.  It's impossible.  Being a woman is all about duality."

Here's where I come out and say it:  I love being a woman, but I can't stand being around them.  My group of friends are predominately older males (to which I will see the eyebrow raises and the utterances of "Daddy Issues" under people's breaths.) mainly because my interests are generally male driven: old music, record collecting, and strange British comedy to name a few.  And to be honest?  Most women make my skin crawl.  When choosing female comrades, I tend to gravitate towards "mother" or "big sister" like people.  This has been my whole life.  When I was fifteen, one of my best female friends was in her forties.  We still remain friends to this day. Young women, (and let's face it, some middle aged women too) to me, scream: needly, slightly, jealous, insecure, helpless, weak, and much more.  When I expressed this to my friend, she laughed:

"You do realize that you have been conditioned to believe this way for years, don't you?"

I thought long and hard about it.  My friend then asked me what my mother was like growing up. (Always stems back to childhood, doesn't it?) My mother was and still is a stunningly beautiful woman.  She is multi talented, funny, and gorgeous.  When I was a child, I saw the way the other mothers looked at her.  They thought of her as stuck up, or pretentious, or selfish, all because of the way she looked. My mom always made a point to take care of herself, to doll up, and to dress in a very "her" manner.  Because she was prettier and let's face it, more talented in other aspects of life than most mothers, she was isolated from the den of "room mothers" in my classroom.  I resented not having a homely mother at the time.  Strange men told her she was pretty, and god, why couldn't she just work at a desk or bake cookies like a normal mom?  Why did she have to go on stage in front of all of those people and sing?

This was my first example to how women are:  Jealous, and insecure.

Someone once said that when we are young, we get "whispered to".  Meaning, we are told from an early age what we are supposed to do.  It's when we get older that we learn to tune out the whispers.  It gets easy with the hustle and bustle of everyday life to block out the whisper.  And when we can no longer hear it, that...that is when we lose ourselves.  I had the whisper early on.  From five years old, I knew what I wanted to do.  One of my friends likes to remind me that we are all given "roles" in life...like a movie...and when we neglect those roles, our life goes into chaos.  Well, a few years back, I tuned out the whisper, and I stepped down to understudy in the role I was born to play.  (Remember those glorious old Hollywood trailers..."So and so in the role she was born to play!!")

One of my favorite quotes from Diane Von Furstnberg. I keep this taped in my notebook. 

When I made this decision, I didn't listen to my gut...about anything.  That was step one in losing my Divine Feminine:  I stopped listening to my intuition....I felt myself harden.  I stopped doing what made my heart sing.  I put everything on the back burner.  I was neglecting the roles I was born to play.  The last two years feel like an out of body experience for me, really.  I did more compromising, settling, and fighting within myself and with others (another sign of repression) I was doing things I wasn't comfortable doing, I made huge mistakes that I can't undo, and most importantly?  I neglected myself.

I was raised in an environment that was a little different than most.  I was fortunate enough to have a steady father-figure that went out and was the predominant breadwinner, which allowed my mother to stay at home with us, but also encouraged her to do the things that made her happy and fulfilled (singing, painting, writing, creating...) and worshipped her in all her feminine glory, and in turn, she balanced him out, being supportive, the caretaker, the one who kept the house in order.  They completed the other one.  They didn't compete, they let the other play the role they were supposed to---and happy to play.  This is the dynamic I always craved.

So I found myself in a situation where I was not one of these, but both of these partners.  I was the main source of income, the breadwinner, the one who worked behind a desk for hours on end every week, and although I tried to make the most of it, all I kept thinking was how much time I was wasting when I could be doing things I was supposed to be doing.  I wasn't appreciated there, and dealing with everyone's energy when I'm really an introvert who just so happens to have a somewhat outgoing personality, was exhausting.  And then I would have to go home, and fill the shoes of the perfect housewife.  I found the things I once loved were daunting.  I didn't want to leave the house, didn't want to put on my shoes (which if anyone knows me, knows that's what I love), didn't want to put makeup on (another thing I love) I wanted to sit around my house in my pajamas, scratching my nonexistent balls.  I had unwillingly, and unknowingly made myself the man.  When my partner at the time made the comment that everyone else in the world got to see the "best" me---one in which I was made up, hair done, fully dressed and "on" and he got to see the rest of it--the human incarnation of me where my skin isn't perfect, my hair sticks up all over my head, and I am cranky...I knew it was over. When I mentioned after taking a second job that I needed to concentrate on my passions so I could feel like I was doing something worthwhile, he said to me "There's only room for one star in this family, and it's me." I knew that I had to "man up" (no pun intended) and move on.

My friend explained to me that every one who identifies as a woman's version of their Divine Feminine is different.  She named off a list of things associated with being Her....Heels, dresses, makeup, bras, being a wife, being a mother, cooking, cleaning, periods, being vulnerable, being open...Which gender roles resonate with me? Which ones turn me off?

I said "OK, I love heels, dresses, makeup, hate wearing a bra and never do, would love kids and a husband, love to cook, could take or leave cleaning, disgusted and totally loathe my periods, and being vulnerable makes you weak." to which she laughed.

"I can handle the no bra thing. Cleaning is fine if you don't love that too.  But the thing about your body doing it's thing, you need to respect.  It's part of what makes you a woman.  And a lot of women would kill to be able to have one, because it means one day you will be able to have children, hopefully.  Embrace it. Examine your resistance to these things.  Now tell me why you love the other things?"

"OK, well, heels are works of art that I get to wear on my feet.  Dresses are more fun and easier to wear than pants, makeup is like painting your face every day.  The bra thing is because I don't think women need them, and I've read more on children and their development, and birth than someone who has ever had children.  Always knew I wanted them. I just feel more comfortable in a caretaker or nurturing position.  Love kids."

"Now, here's the part that's difficult.  Why does being vulnerable make you weak in your opinion?"

I thought long and hard.  I thought about being a kid and bursting out into tears, and my biological father telling me to "Suck it up.  Stop being a wuss."  I thought about how being open let bad people in to my life, and how being vulnerable left me a target for others to come in and hurt me.  I thought about the wall that I worked so hard to build, to keep everyone out.  I thought about how I couldn't cry for two months because I had trained myself to not do so.  I thought about having to deal with men in the workforce and how you weren't allowed to have an emotional moment, or a time when you worked purely on a gut instinct (even though you were right in the end) because they would just say you were being irrational, stupid, or must be on your dreaded period.

I thought about how I had to adapt to function in the world of the Male.  I changed my clothes, hair, makeup, shoes, even lowered the tone of my voice so men would take me seriously as a peer, instead of as a "woman" How could I expect anyone else to accept me and respect me, if I couldn't respect myself?  If I was being untrue to who I was?  To who She was?

And that's when I had the a-ha moment.  The modern world we live in doesn't value the Feminine.  Women have to be bi-lingual.  We have to speak Feminine and we have to speak Masculine.  It is not the other way around.  We are trained from an early age that other women are competition.  We are bred to be jealous...to envy...which goes against our nature to be compassionate, loving, accepting beings. We are taught that women have certain crosses to bear, instead of considering them privileges.  We are instructed to go against our nature, and go on rationale, not emotions, which then in turn, shuts down our intuition.  We are expected to neglect our delicate biochemistry, because we have to "man up" Instead of celebrating the fact that I was a healthy, blossoming woman stepping into adulthood when I started my first period, I was taught to be ashamed, to hide, to be grossed out...for doing what my body does.  I was told that I was a slut for not wanting to wear a bra...and then in turn when I posted the blog on my last website about my anti bra decision, I was told by feminists that I was truly not on their side because I still wore make-up and high heels, and was "secretly being repressed." by the patriarchy.  (When actuality, I just like glitter.) Because I have been told that I am not good enough because I don't make as much money as a man, or the fact that I don't have the desire to sit behind a desk for the rest of my life, because I was told that being a sexual human being was "dirty", because, dammit, I actually do want to go back in the kitchen and make my significant other a sandwich....I am not good enough..

Guess what?

Not true.  I love the fact that I am 6'3" in high heels.  I love the fact that my body is fully functioning and healthy after a few scares in the past, I am not grossed out by any of its functions any longer.  I love the fact that not wearing a bra makes me feel like more of a woman, because I'm not trying to turn my breasts into something they're not...they're just fine on their own.  I love the fact that I get to paint my face each day to highlight the features I like the best, I love the fact that I don't want to go into corporate America in spite of what the world tells me to do, I love the fact that my body can sense pleasure and I can not be ashamed of it, and I love the fact that I can find my way around a kitchen, and usually make something pretty decent out of it that will make other people happy. And I love the fact that I am an emotional creature who feels.  Because after shutting that part of your life off for years?  It feels damn good to cry.


This is what makes me MY woman.  What makes me tick doesn't make other women tick.  That's what's so great about being one.  If you want to have children, you can.  If you want to work 50 hour s a week, you can.  If you want to not wear makeup, wear pants, buy astronomically expensive shoes or not...you can. We need to focus more on what being women represents: openness, love, understanding, compassion, insight, intuition, forgiveness, wisdom, connection, sensuality...whatever those things mean to you...because when we neglect these things, our health falls apart.  Trust me.  I'm dealing with the repercussions right now.  When I was told that I have overwhelming amounts of the stress hormone in my system, and that I had overworked my body to the point of it not functioning properly?  I knew it was from trying to be something I was not meant to be.  That was from trying to shut Her up.

This is a new journey for me, readers.  I know that I will never be back to the person I was before two years ago.  I know that I am on a spiritual journey. and my awakening means that I will never be able to go back old Payton.  What I am doing is evolving into who I am supposed to be.  I am trying every day to be more open, more loving, compassionate, understanding, less judgmental...I am trying not to neglect what makes my heart happy, and I am having to learn how to listen for that whisper.  I know the whisper is still in there, but I have turned the volume down so much that I am having to strain to hear.  I am working every day on loving the person I am now, instead of beating myself up for the mistakes I made along the way.

Remember, just because you embrace your inner DF doesn't mean you're not smart, tough, or strong.  And it's OK to hate pantsuits. 

Love you, readers.  Shine on.