Afternoon my little honey dips! Sorry I went MIA on you guys last week—meant to throw up a Dillz as a holiday gift but got caught up making a tres leches cake to try and impress my boyfriend’s mom on Christmas Eve. That said, I couldn’t leave y’all hangin’ without at least one last post for 2014, so let’s get to it!
Now normally the following statement would probably be considered TMI, but since I feel I’m on such a close, sisterly status with you ladies, I’ll just come out with it—I’m on day thirteen of my period. Surely some of you have had similarly drawn-out cycles, but this is the longest I’ve ever had mine and it is fucking. me. up! It’s basically all a result of me not taking my birth control properly, but it’s gotten to the point where I have to stop it all together and go consult my doctor for another option because I’m physically, emotionally, and hormonally at my breaking point. I’m bloated, exhausted, horny, sad, and just generally frustrated—definitely not the way I was trying to close out 2015. However, one of my resolutions for 2015 is to be less negative about dumb shit and just appreciate how incredible my life really is, so dwelling on hemorrhaging for almost two weeks straight is counterproductive, right?
As cliché as it is to do a resolution post before the new year, it seemed like the most appropriate way to wrap up 2014. Also, and I know I’m not alone here, but I don’t think I’ve ever actually kept a resolution. They always seem so excessive or unrealistic or falsely self-righteous. In the past I’ve sworn (like every other woman ever) that I’d lose weight or start exercising, but those are usually just comforting white lies. Reflecting on the year I’ve had, which was honestly great, I kept trying to find the source of any negative thoughts. Not to wallow in them, but to understand the causes of unhappiness and learn to eliminate them. In reality, the only thing that's held me back or made me question myself this year was me. My insecurities, my jealousy, my horrible habit of overthinking everything, my neuroses—these are the only things keeping from true happiness and mental freedom. Obviously it’s a lot easier said than done to get rid of said baggage, but I feel blessed in that I’m my own biggest obstacle at the moment. Some people face so much adversity; even when they’ve fought their whole lives and never played the victim, other people and life’s cruel bullshit have gotten in the way. One of the comments on my last post said my issues were “first world problems,” and they’re absolutely 100% right. How could I ever even try to deny that? My problems are subconsciously self-imposed, just the result of 24-years of excessive thinking in an overly excessive world. The beauty in it is that I’m lucid. I’m open enough to see the ridiculousness of it. And so my 2015 resolution, attached to being less negative, is to be a better best friend to myself.
Of course that means taking better care of my body and maintaining a good physique—which promotes overall mind/body happiness—but my focus is especially mental. This might be a really weird example, but I was watching that show My-600-Lb-Life about people who are almost morbidly obese, and there was this one woman on it I’ll just never forget. She stayed in a little house in Florida with all her daughters and was so big that she literally lived on her bed, too wide to even pass through the halls. The excess weight obvious altered her entire body, and she even had a light beard growing in. But with all that, every time the doctor came around, she’d be flirting with him, saying “I know I look good Doctor” and fully feeling herself. It brought the biggest smile to my face. Like here I am, this hot little piece that can run and jump and flex (very flex), with very nice eyebrows and a cute button nose, and yet there are still nights I cry into the pillow and think, “Why can’t this or why can’t that?” And the whole time, this woman on the brink of dying has more confidence in her chin hair than I do in my entire being sometimes. Ugh, the paradoxes of the human brain! They’re infuriatingly intriguing!
I have to stop comparing myself to every woman I see on TV or in a magazine. Wanna talk petty? I can be shamefully petty. There are beautiful women whose photos I won’t like on Instagram for fear of my boyfriend seeing. Yeah, I said it. I can’t even watch Love & Hip-Hop: New York with my man in the house because I feel my beauty is too inferior to that of Erica Mena. Yeah, I said it. It’s petty as fuck. And it’s weak as fuck. But I’m just being honest. That’s how bizarrely fucked up things can get in my brain. And the only reason I’m sharing is because I know I’m not alone. I’m never going to be anyone but Tabatha, and without even having to sound immodest, that should be enough. I have girls leave comments on my IG occasionally saying they idolize my “voice “or my style, and I can’t even believe that sometimes; I might be a well-manicured one, but I’m a basket case nonetheless!
Back to the comparing though—that has to stop. Physical comparisons, and the comparison of lifestyles as well. You ever get caught up on some rich persons page or hear about some fabulous romantic vacation someone took and get totally down on yourself? I was able to eliminate FOMO in a social sense years ago; the sad feeling I’d get not being able to go to “that” party when I was younger? I haven’t given a fuck about that shit since I was a teenager. I do, however, envy the beach getaways and whimsical jet set couples taking cashmere-swaddled lover selfies with the caption “Off on our next adventure!” glaring underneath. Bastards. But just the way some people think I have it made judging from my online presence, they surely all have their underlying issues too. We all do. And sometimes the prettier the picture looks from afar, the more fucked up it actually is once you dissect it. So comparing is OUT—being inspired is the 2015 replacement. Instead of getting mad now, bitching at my boyfriend for not taking me on vacation for the 80th time, I should harvest that emotion constructively and just save up or take planning into my own hands.
Down with comparisons, up with confidence. I think that’s a fairly simple but powerful New Years resolution. And if I can be this upbeat and optimistic on the 13th day of my period, I know my fellow sad girls can too. Now here’s to hoping some magical sex fairy comes and banishes this thing by nightfall so I can end ’14 with a bang. Lol. Happy New Years babygirls, thanks for fucking with me.