Nothing But a Big Booty Slut With Double Ds!

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Ok, so I have debated long and hard about whether to write this post or not and my heart has told me we MUST go there! Admittedly I wanted to shy away from it; I tried to file it under ‘shit that happened, which shall never be spoken of again’ but couldn't. 

Some folks in my circle find some of my posts hard to deal with. They worry; they fear for me that I am sometimes too public with my personal stories and dance with the devil of overshare too often. I get it, they worry, and they want to protect me. They love me and don't want to see me hurt. Fair enough. I am ‘out there’, I am seen, what I say gets read (I would know as I regularly check the stats on my blog). Naturally, they don't want to see me get hurt, ridiculed, embarrassed, made fun of or judged. The concern comes from a good place. Thing is, I refuse to hide behind my stories as a no face, no name, nobody. I am a real person, and the stuff I write about is real and has happened to me IRL. No matter how cringe-worthy, embarrassing or soul-exposing the shit that I go through is I will continue to write about it because it is exactly that, real! And we all go through shit from time to time and can relate on some level.

Ok, now that’s out of the way, let me tell you about something that happened to me a few weeks ago.  

We planned Friyay night dinner followed by drinks at a popular bar in the city; I was child-free (the pluses of having two great baby daddies that cherish and love time with their kids). A bunch of us head out and enjoy a nice evening with good food. We then do drinks and meet up with the others who joined us later. A friend and I head over to the bar. By this stage the night is getting loud and busy the place is vibing with lots of ‘happy’ people shoulder to shoulder. Leaning against the bar I feel myself get pushed into my friend, I make nothing of it as it is getting crowded.  The barman preps our grey goose soda with a slice of lime, my favourite choice of indulgence! Then, the girl next to me almost knocks me off my heels, only this time I notice it wasn't an accident. Her blonde mane somehow lands in our drinks, and the barman is too busy flirting to notice. I let it slide; I am not in the mood for confrontation. I turn to my friend, we give each other the look, you know the one ‘tipsy annoying girls alert, let's get out of here’ look.

This girl continues though, and I am baffled as to why she insists on taking her hair for a dip in my grey goose with her fringe cooling off in my beverage yet again!  I politely ask her to stop washing her strands in my drink. Suffice to say it didn't go down well. 

What followed was a rather unpleasant verbal tap on the shoulder, and suddenly I find myself in a full-scale country and western style standoff backed by a choir, guitar, harmonica, percussion and flute. 

‘What did you say, you fat bitch?’ she yells ‘why have you got those out you slut?’ she screams in my face as she waves at my breasts with royal flair. ‘Bitch put those away, your nothing but a slut’ she continues. ‘Look at you, why do you eat so much you fat slut’. The insults keep coming, each one mightier than the next.

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Face to face at this point; I wait for my mouth to take over and start returning the favour. I stand there waiting for my arms to swing into action and finally put that MMA training I did all those years ago to good use. I have never been one to shy away from defending myself or serving up a good verbal bashing when required.  But nothing, I stood there in silence. My mind confused as to why my mouth and arms weren’t responding, my internal dialogue raged with frustration. 'Come on!' my mind screams at me, I am the queen of words for god's sake, swearing and offensive language is my speciality! All I could manage was to look at her; I had nothing to say, until the following words fly out of my mouth ‘are you ok girlfriend?’ I am just as puzzled by my response as her friend is shocked. ‘Are you ok?’ I repeat. ‘What’s wrong?’  I spoke to her like I would a good friend.  I got an overwhelming feeling of sadness for her. I don't know where it came from; I couldn't be rude or offensive back; I wanted to believe me. I soon realised my heart was calling the shots, she had the mic, and no one else had permission to use it. 

I felt a sense of calm, even in the face of this angry, triggered, screaming woman. Intuitively I knew she wasn't ok, her actions and words enough to show me she has been through pain. It didn't excuse how she behaved, but it gave me insight and instead of allowing her words to start a fire I responded with compassion and love. 

Although we have past hurts and pain that we may not be able to escape, we can choose who we want to be, and we can choose to come from a place of love. What she shouted at me was not kind; it was cruel, uneducated, hurtful and nasty. Did she think I hadn’t realised that I was still carrying around my baby weight two years on? Did she think I was unaware that my body is heavier than it needs to be? Did she think that by yelling vile, hateful abuse at me I would miraculously go up in smoke and reappear as her version of acceptable? Her outburst was not on. It was not ok. I am not my body, I am not my clothes, and I am not my skin or my job, and I was most certainly not deserving of her rageful attack either. I’m just me, Cristina, trying to enjoy a good night out with friends and giving life a red hot go. 

This incident made me realise that this type of body shaming and criticism happens way too often and it has to stop! I am well aware of my 'needs improvement' list; I think we all are on some level. I know what needs addressing physically and otherwise. I am on the same path to self-acceptance as most of us doing life; I’m showing up and doing my best every day. I am also healing my protection wounds (the weight) in the process. I won’t wake up tomorrow and suddenly be in a different body; it's a journey, my journey, not yours and not yours to criticise. 

If you look at someone and your immediate reaction is to find fault, criticise, shame or ridicule, you need to back up and look within.  You need to ask yourself why I am tearing that person down because they are/look/behave differently to what I know as normal? If you are guilty of this, I guarantee you that these are just triggers, an invitation to look deeper within yourself, an opportunity to examine what aspects of yourself you do not accept. We must remember it is NO ONE's job to be anyone else’s version of acceptable. It is no one's job to be anyone but themselves. 

So, to the girl at the bar that night, the one I so desperately wanted to yell 'fuck you' at but was gagged by my heart. I see you; you are loved. I feel you babe, life is hard sometimes. I know you are more than just a tipsy agro potty mouth; just like I am also more than just a big booty with double ds. 

I am the change I want to see in the world.


Only Love

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