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Do not be defined by your shell

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Do not be defined by your shell

Posted on June 1, 2017
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I want to talk about self confidence. It’s come up in different ways a lot lately and I have been attacking it from many perspectives trying to come to a conclusion.

The Lord kept bringing me to this passage today (I thought…Zephaniah? are you sure God?)

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He gave it to me 3 different times before I got it.

I’m one of his more stubborn children.

From my personal experience, right now my thoughts are going to the physical outcome of my breasts. They are…different. It’s skin wrapped around a gel filled implant and you can tell! It does not look natural it looks fake, imagine that. When I take photos to compare or look in the mirror I see what is not perfection. I have scars that are healing and it’s not pretty. From a romantic aspect it’s nothing I imagine anyone could view as beautiful. I’m single so not a huge issue right now since I’m not interested in that. I will put on clothing that I change at least 3-4 times because you can see some imperfection. ALSO, when I use my muscles, holy cow it looks weird! It causes dimpling, ripples or creases. Today I referred to myself as Frankenstein’s bride. Feels that way a little.

People from both genders have asked to see and I thought before hand I would have no issues showing anyone who dared look. I tend to view it medically not sexually. Anyway, now that it’s done. I realized I have a huge self confidence issue with it. Clothing makes me feel comfortable but the naked truth is completely different. I also decided I won’t be sharing bare before or after photos. More out of respect for people whose husbands may read my blog…doubtful but hey, ya never know. I did take bikini top photos and that’ll be as far as I go in blogland. Other peoples pictures were extremely helpful to me when I started this journey.

    So here ya go, judge away

For those of you, that I greatly dislike, and think “Big deal, she had a boob job.” First of all, shut up.

It’s gotta be the most frustrating and ignorant statement I hear. I won’t explain it here but if you think that, come see me. Going into this I knew it wasn’t going to be beautiful. I lmomdaughterooked at hundreds of other PBM photos of women brave enough to share online and in closed groups on Facebook. I will say there were maybe 5 – 7 that I thought…oh hers look good. My expectations of my outcome were very realistic. Honestly, I thought it would be much worse than what I ended up with. I didn’t have mastectomies for beauty reasons. It was to hopefully save myself from ever experiencing breast cancer. To keep my kids from seeing me sick or dying. I did it because I was given a choice that my mother was not. But she provided the answer to a question we otherwise wouldn’t have known existed.

I’m not complaining at all, btw. Let me tell you how fortunate I was to have as great of results as I do. Not a single complication and the odds were not in my favor. I was asking a lot of the doctors. I’d seen so many horror stories of women who have had awful results and complications. So all in all I’m a miracle, thank you God – again. However, I’m also human…so accepting change can be difficult.

To all the women with natural breast or even breast augmentation. I do not look like you. Also, I do not think I look better than you. I most definitely feel the opposite but I can laugh about it as you see in my last blog. I have to remember that my boobs do not take away from or add to the woman that I am. It doesn’t matter how gorgeous the next girl is, she can never be me. Never offer what I can. Never love the exact same way I do or have the perspective I do because my story is different. I love that about people! Just think, the same applies to YOU! Not a single other person on this earth has your story or what you have to offer to others. Make it good.

     When I was 1-2 years old I developed a birthmark on the tip of my nose…many people don’t know this. Crazy me, now sharing it with the world. It became dark purple and was like a ball at the end of my nose. Kids teased me relentlessly. Called me names, wouldn’t be friends with me and I came home crying every day. I became so shy I would literally hide in a corner when I could. I only talked to the other kids nobody liked because they were fat or had ugly clothes or something like that. Those were good friendships because we hurt the same way.

As I grew up it got smaller until it pretty much went away. That mentality of being the ugly kid, however, did not go away. I looked down so my long hair would hide my face when I knew someone was looking at my profile. I hated knowing someone could see my profile because of my nose being long and I still really don’t like it. If anyone ever complimented my appearance I knew it was out of pity and not sincerity. My Birthmark defined me for years. God gave me that. As awful as it was, I have a heart for people now, not beauty. I have experienced the most inspiring people in the most unconventional packaging.

I remember wishing so many times that I was the popular pretty girl in school. You know what though. That chick was mean! I heard in middle/high school she actually went around apologizing to some kids because of how mean she had been in Elementary school. Good for you girl – I still remember her name but won’t share. Thank God for answering some of my prayers with NO. I was never mean. Too kind, perhaps. I mean, I wouldn’t step on ants because I didn’t want their Mom and Dad to miss them if they didn’t come back home. Yes I know, I’m pretty weird but it’s funny now.

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I also don’t have a cocky view of myself now. It’s just that I don’t feel ugly like I used to and I know that I am no beauty queen. Honestly, I don’t care much about the topic period. Some days I like to dress up and wear makeup other days I like to wear jeans and hoodies and no makeup. It’s not for YOU, it’s for me. It’s for fun really. There is SO much more to me than what you all can see with your eyes. My self confidence is not in my shell. My nose is big, my skins not perfect, my tummy looks like I had two babies and I have had a mastectomy with reconstruction. Just give me a minute while I talk to myself here.

I’ll be real with you, sometimes those things make me feel nervous or judged around other people. I know a lot of other women who feel that nervousness all the time. It breaks my heart. We compare ourselves to other women that we think are better in whatever way. When we do that it only takes away from OUR unique beauty. I know you’ve all heard it but NOBODY else is like you and all the beauty in the world could be taken away in an instant. I think of the model that walked into the plane propeller. Can you imagine. If you are so wrapped up in your packaging, what would be left that made you beautiful.

So who cares what size jeans you fit in, if your hair just will not tame, if your smile is crooked or you talk with a lisp. Don’t rob the world of the magic of you. I’ve had a tremendous amount of people tell me how I’ve inspired them or helped them in some way. Sometimes just by listening, sometimes from sharing my story. Sometimes crying, sometimes laughing together. Yet I’m just little ole me who felt like nobody most of my life. It’s been an incredible journey. I have a purpose bigger than me and I’ll bet so do you. Work on your inside and don’t spend too much time at the bathroom sink.

Written 9/22/14

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