Why are flights so freaking much money.

Uggg do the airlines not understand that I have trips to plan & to buy 4 tickets anywhere sucks ass.

Shake Your Bon Bon

So on a random email response from one of the besties I get a request to "try something new". This results in 5 sessions at a crazy hippie/eclectic dance studio.

The adventure: Belly dancing

Tuesday nights for the next 5 weeks. I think "hey, if nothing else I am out of the house with chicka's I love".

Because I am a good girl scout there has been prep about what to wear and expect in class. I come in a trusty pair of fitted black yoga pants & a black tank top that. I arrive first, groupon in hand & signing the appropriate waiver where when I tear a hammie I won't sue.

I'm one of 15 other women 30 years spans our age differential and don't forget the one sweet gay man who is so buff I want his abs & biceps. Love live the YMCA.

As class begins I find myself doing the age old look around. If I were a wild animal or a member of the Hunger Games it would be sizing up competition & determining how long I would live vs. killing off any potential threats. I hate this part of being a girl. Why do I even fucking care.

I instantly feel zero threat. I find these women of a different persuasion, descending from a carb loving tribe vs. the weight watcher tribe I reside in.

As class goes on I begin to feel off kilter. I stare in the room's wall length mirror trying to maneuver my body in such a fashion that I would of had the lead role in Slumdog Millionaire and yet all I can think of is how I look like I have been suffering from mal nutrition and these amazing beautiful, curvy, volumpious women are handing my ass to me on a belly dancing patter.

So these wonderfully odd women are not what society considers "beautiful" and they dance & they don't give a FUCK. They come in crop topped shirts and belly jangles and the OWN IT. Every age, every walk of life these women are strong and say nothing more than I love myself & doing this makes me happy so I am in.

I am jealous of these women because in my pathetic warped mind of what beauty is if I walked a mile or even 10 steps in their shoes I COULD NEVER DO WHAT THEY ARE DOING. I think of the excuses I would make about how someone would think I look ugly or comment or heaven forbid stare at me.

I suddenly hate myself for being so weak & this is a trait I rarely even acknowledge.

I spent a year & a 1/2 working to get to a place that suddenly seemed so ridiculous. It got me wondering what did I really do it all for? Was it for the right reasons? Hands down I'm happy with my result & will never return to those past crossroads but I need to do a little "me" alignment & drop the ridiculous.

No more. No resolutions or trying to change the world. Just an ah-ha moment that made me realize do what you love for yourself not for anyone else.

To my two little lima beans

Listen up kidneys. YOU ARE LAME & I say who needs you!

Wait...I do & when they are broke I kind of want to die.

I heart drugs.