Close up Hands Tea x

Sit a bit and hear some observational stories I’ve been steeping.

Constructive Criticism, my butt.

Recently, I spent five days away with a family member who took it upon themself to dispense what they like to call “Constructive Criticism” – telling me that they did not like what I had on, and that I really could not wear pants, because… my butt was too big.  This information came after I’d already gotten dressed for the day (lipstick and all), to go poking around an empty building with reported dry rot, termite damage and mold issues.  So, I went back to wearing the same wool skirt I’d traveled in, day in and day out for the next few days, so as to not be a source of visual irritation to my loved one.  Suffice to say, I was the best dressed individual at the construction site.

When it was time to go home, I got back into my jeans for the long drive back to Los Angeles and called my daughter to say I was happy to be returning to people who love me, despite my ample posterior and that I would likely be coming in the door butt first.  Just because.

Constructive Criticism, my fanny.

Now, I should mention that the person giving the < *cough* > “helpful advice” has spent a long lifetime fretting about numbers.  Numbers in the form of: dress and pant sizes; carefully measured food portions; calculated calories; carbohydrate grams; waist measurement; and (horror of horrors) daily body weight in pounds and ounces.  Being a model and photographed all the days of your life can do that to a person.  I understand.  Body Dysmorphic Disorder was bound to happen somewhere along the way.

For those that don’t know, Body Dysmorphic Disorder is (and I quote), “a pathological preoccupation with an imagined or slight physical defect of one’s body to the point of causing significant stress or behavioral impairment in several areas (as work and personal relationships).”

My Maternal Unit was and still is, a woman who has always been in incredible shape – but she will never accept it.  I grew up under the beautifully sculpted wings of an angel who has never been able to see how remarkable she is and that has always made me more than a little sad for her.

Oh, yes.  I completely understand Body Dysmorphic Disorder.  What I’ve spent a lifetime trying to understand is how, why and when that opinion of self seeped over into the lives of everyone else in the line of distorted vision.  And, I’ll tell you what – it is mighty hard to be at the wrong end of those psychic binoculars.

You should know, that in the middle of the above-mentioned “Constructive Criticism” a question was posed to me: “Do you even KNOW what you look like?!”

Why, yes.  Yes I do.

I am a 5’4” 50 year old female who weighs somewhere around 130 pounds (give or take about 3 pounds within a 28 day period); one who wears a size 4 jeans, occasionally opting for a size 6 if I’ve enjoyed more than my fare share of holiday/birthday/gee, it’s Tuesday cookies/cake/toast & butter; as the mother of a 16 year old and a 20 year old, I’ve spent their lifetimes making sure they eat right to keep the amazing machine that is their body alive and healthy.  I’ve never banned sugar from my household and I’ve sung the importance of eating the daily recommended portions of fruits and vegetables to anyone within earshot.  It is important to me to make sure that my doctor is happy with the numbers that come back from annual blood work and he and I have agreed on the number of adult beverages I can consume in a week and how many cups of coffee/tea I can have in a day.

You see, I have number issues of my own, but I work really hard to keep them in their tidy drawers and know exactly what they mean: I’m average.  I’m normal.  I’m okay with what I see in the mirror. And what I pour into my jeans.  Besides, it is my wish that upon meeting me, folks don’t look there first.  Hello!  My heart is UP HERE, people!

While not exactly sure of how I came into this world, I can guaran-darn-tee you how I’m going out: butt first.  With a smile on my face, because I know I have people who love me… despite the fact I occasionally wear jeans to tea.

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To learn more about that horse butt teapot up there, visit http://katerisparrow.blogspot.com/ and find her on Facebook.

8 thoughts on “Constructive Criticism, my butt.

  • Judie King says:

    WOW. Perfect comment reply to the afore mentioned comment. Oh to express myself like you do. You go girl.

    • TKatz says:

      Thank you, Judie!

      We’ve all got, or have had, ONE of those in our lives, right?
      Feel free to share with friends and loved ones who need to hear (or say) this, too!
      Hugs to you and yours.
      xo – t.

  • Jean Anne Allen says:

    I have so many things to say here but I’ll limit it to how much I wish my butt was as “big” as yours !! Having to try to stuff my big ass into those size 4 jeans everyday would be such a struggle. lol!

    • TKatz says:

      No matter the number, I always find it a struggle to get into jeans. Isn’t there a phrase for it? “Cats wrestling in a bag” or some such thing. They’d televise it in some countries.

  • Mikki says:

    3 words Friend… DO NOT LISTEN (ever again) (to Her)

    She is blinded by herself, You should go deaf Deaf and Blind together is the way for you to walk with her… You deserve not to hear her any more from a Friend of Yours

    • TKatz says:

      As I get older, I make more of an effort to be grateful for my good qualities (work ethic, dependable, trustworthy, kind) and tell myself it is the trade-off for a rockin’ body. My soul? Is TOTALLY Vogue and cat-walk worthy.

  • Gerad says:

    You are an amazing person. A beautiful and intelligent women and you have captured my respect so very quickly. Your wit and humor are extremely attractive qualities and your warm heart and nature make you and endeared asset to humankind. All of this and we didn’t even sit down for tea together. It has been a real pleasure and honor to meet you in person and I hope to see you again in the near future. Keep up the writing and rock those jeans- Every blessing!

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