On Regret...

It could just be coincidence, or maybe events happen for a reason, but I have noticed that many things that have happened around me lately seem to be telling me to pay attention.  It's almost as if I need to, in order to avoid later regrets.
I've noticed that most of the music I have been drawn to listening to has a positive vibe to it, affirmations, calls to live like there's no tomorrow--reminding us after all that it's just our one life, we have to live it, so why not push it in the direction we want to go?  The past should not be a regret, it's a base or point to work from with the knowledge we've gathered thus far.

I consider myself lucky, so far in my life the few special people I have lost, have left knowing I truly cared for them and that before they passed they knew I was going to miss them. There were no lingering bad feelings, and that played a part in helping me move on and cherish my memories after their passings.
I am understanding what the expression "No man is an island" is truly about. We as humans are wired to need to be loved and accepted by those in our lives. Having special people in our lives helps us grow, become stronger, and helps us to be able to endure the inevitable hardships in life. The loss of one of these special souls changes us and time helps us cope with our loss.

This fact was driven home for me recently.  I acutely remember how the scary combination of words and emotion heard in a voice drove my heart to pound hard and fast.  It dawned on me almost immediately that I had been taking someone's continued presence for granted, and that I had no right to expect that presence. Life can be cruel, and we all know it. I wrote down a bunch of things I wanted this person to know (if they didn't already) to affirm their personal importance to me. I arrived at the hospital, and wouldn't you know it, whipping out a piece of paper to read from (no matter how well-intended) did not "feel" right. I winged it, just saying whatever thoughts flooded into my head. We are so conditioned to two-way conversations, that it felt plain weird to be saying things to someone, who by outward appearances, was sleeping peacefully.  Despite feeling awkward, I said what I felt needed to be said.  At this point I felt overwhelmed, so I left, with no indication of acknowledgement of the things I said.  Never mind, I got to say them.

Here's where I feel lucky in a bad situation. I got another chance to say these things again, AND witness a response. It pains me to see what illness and injury can do to the human body. I see how fragile people can be, how in a short time we can be betrayed by our bodies, even if our mind is still sharp and lucid.  Despite this betrayal, I have seen that a person can still be themselves, and find a way to shine through their adversity.

All this has got me thinking about other people in my life. People I like, love, or adore, but for whatever reason don't get to see or talk to as often as I could or should. I will be making more of an effort to let people in my life know they are important to me more often. No matter what life has in store for me I do not want to look back with a multitude of regrets that I didn't say something I should have...
Now to put these words into actions!

Social Media and Second-Guessing

I always maintain that I am a work-in-progress.  There is always something new to learn and figure out, and I like to feel that I can be open to other ideas.  Just recently I have realized the importance of  "never say never," unless you've actually had an experience.  I gave Apple a chance, after long swearing that I would never become an "iSucker".  I bought a Nano (on sale, of course), and although I miss my reliable Sansa Fuze, the Nano has proved to be decent replacement.  I experienced the product, yet you won't see me running out to get the next generation the moment it becomes available. I have learned that I can try something new and it won't change me to my core. This little preamble is leading into my current learning path:  What I can accurately portray on social media.

I will make no secret of it. I need to improve my self-esteem.  Long ago, (and a few jobs back) I was emptying trash at a government office. They were moving some of the employees around, and in the process many of them were cleaning up their work areas.  The volume of trash that week was astounding.  Near the end of the week one of the cubicles had a metal garbage can full of papers, old office supplies, and some BOOKS!  I cannot stand to throw books away.  There were two at the top that caught my eye, one of them being a book on improving self-esteem.  These I rescued from the fate of the Dumpster out back.  They came home with me, but alas, were stowed on the shelf, and oops, forgotten amid the noise and shuffle of life.

I like to think that things happen for a reason, and during a recent rummage through a bunch of papers and etc in my filing cabinet, I came across the book on self-esteem.  This prompted my status on Facebook to read, Sometimes another man's junk becomes my treasure, obviously referencing the fact that someone (man or woman) had no use for the book (junk) but I found it useful, so it had become my treasure!  No comments were forthcoming on this, which is fine, I don't need comments to validate my status, but the other half was giving me snarky looks, and asked about the status, in a somewhat condescending tone.  I said, "Yes the status refers to that book I rescued a long time ago."  Oh shit, then it dawned on me what he thought I had written.  I immediately felt so embarrassed about this, even though it was not what I meant, but that others would construe it that way.  My way of dealing with it?  I deleted the status, and thought of something else.

This occurrence made me think that maybe I should second-guess what I post, in case I offend someone, but true to the spirit of self-esteem, I have to own my feelings and not immediately be embarrassed by them. I wasn't hurting anyone.  All I think I was guilty of was creative wording, I can't spend all day looking from every angle to make sure everything looks tip-top and neutral.  At one point I was entertaining the thought of having an alias Facebook account to say the saucier or controversial things I sometimes want to say, but then I second-guess in order to not rock the boat.  I am hoping by reading my treasure book, it will give me more insight into myself, and by realizing my feelings and thoughts are valid I will just say what I think and let people, GASP! be offended sometimes!
I have only one life, and as it goes on, I know I was not put here to be a doormat for others.  I want to have the power to be me and get on with it.

I'm not looking to be a radical and say everything on my mind to cause a stir. I just want a good foundation of self-esteem to be able to rock the boat now and then without falling overboard and drowning
So yeah, oops I may blunder here and there on social media, but I know my intent, so anyone offended in the future can just deal with it. It's MY status, obviously I took the time to post it, so yes, I stand by it.  I hope to never feel the need to delete a status again, but keeping in mind I am a work-in-progress, we'll see!               

Thrifty's New Best Friend!

Not sure I want to start off by declaring "I'm cheap!", so I won't.  I am thrifty (for the most part).  Like many others, unlimited moo-lala isn't the reality.  I currently work part time to avoid paying child-care costs.  I have a hard time stomaching the idea of paying someone else to look after the kids I brought into the world to enjoy, (again, for the most part!). My buying habits tend to be a mix of conservative brand-new, think sales, or even basic items with basic, reasonable prices and secondhand.  Earlier this year I found something to complement my buying power.  I was introduced to the local Buy and Sell through Facebook.  Looked intriguing, so I asked to join the group, read their rules and outlines, and by that weekend listed a couple things I had been wanting to get rid of.  Success!  The first day I listed I made a sale, woohoo! It wasn't long before I was trawling on the Buy and Sell page every time I was on Facebook. I spent more time there than on "regular" Facebook activities.  Soon I was finding all kinds of bargains and getting rid of some things I didn't need around the house. Talk about a win-win situation!  The biggest sale I made was of my car, which I hadn't been getting much interest in through other venues. On a roll!

This summer the group made the decision to switch to a format called Varagesale, which for the most part has been awesome!  It has a layout for those using a PC, and also a mobile app, which was an improvement over the former set-up, great as it was.  You can look through a feed at everything posted recently, or by category if you are looking for something specific.  If you want to post sale items with your phone, that has been made a snap too.  No excuses to not get rid of unwanted treasures!  I've even enticed my older kids to sell off stuff they aren't playing with anymore for cold hard cash to get what they do want. Clearing out, learning value and less pestering me to pay for things--what more could I ask for?
I have scored myself some awesome deals.  Brand name stuff I wouldn't be caught dead paying the sticker price for. I look like I spent a lot, but didn't--haha!
I like to think that this thriftiness isn't just good for me.  I am stimulating a different kind of economy. I pay people in my own community for things they no longer want, but that I can use. Now they have the money to do with as they see fit.  I don't get all the packaging and other crap, didn't have to pay TAX--and I get to know my community that little bit more.  By selling stuff to other people, I get stuff I don't want out of the house, I make someone else happy (possibly because they saved money)and again, met more members of the community.

I will admit it, I love feeling like a got a deal, which is why I will continue to use Varagesale, but I will also frequent the local secondhand stores as they help charities and our local hospital.  And to our local businesses, I will also shop from you, but don't seem surprised if you see that I gravitate towards the words SALE, DISCOUNT, or any other money-saving terms.  I will pay full price, but only if I think it is worth it, after all I have to earn my money.

The way I see it, thriftiness has other rewards.  Stuff is getting re-used, re-purposed, and re-homed locally. Why shouldn't people get a few bucks if their unwanted stuff is still in fair to excellent condition?   Varagesale is saving me time and money getting things at a fraction of brand-new cost, and once I make a deal, I just go pick it up at the same time I am doing other errands--in other words, no big deal!

Varagesale is this thrifty bargain-hunter's dream.  Thanks to all the people out there who run it, and to all the people who contribute by buying, selling, and even just looking--passing it on to others. Now if you'll excuse me, I think I need to go check the Varagesale feed, just looking!      

Reflecting on a "fuzzy" feeling project

I'm not looking to call it seeking my next "fix" or "high", but I have been reflecting a lot lately about the last thing I did to give me a warm fuzzy feeling.  I know I can't magically change the world, but I would like to find my own meaningful way to make it better.  My last (I think,) great idea transpired a few years ago, and it took time and eventually a whole lot of planning and strategically thinking to get it off the ground (literally, as a couple of plane trips were necessary!) I wrote at the time why I did it, and even reading it now, I think "yeah, that's right. Here is my last GREAT fuzzy-feeling project.

 Why I donated to BC Women's Milk Bank...

I have several reasons why I donated to BC Women's Milk Bank, as I am outlining here.

I have always been emotionally charged by the TV ads that Canadian Blood Services airs—the ones that state, “blood, it's in you to give”. Donating blood is difficult to do in Smithers, unless you can go to a larger centre. They will not accept blood donations until you are six months postpartum.

Breast milk is also in me to give—from either side of my heart. I am lucky enough to have an excellent milk supply that I can express with relative ease. My little girl is thriving on just the milk I am providing her, so of course I believe if it's good for her it will be good for some other infant in need.

I am an emotional sap, meaning seeing pictures of teeny tiny sick babies almost reduces me to tears, and makes me realize how lucky I am to have a healthy baby, and that I have no problems making more than enough milk for her. I know not all mothers are as lucky.

I like to think I am helping someone in the most direct way I can. Giving money is great, but I know exactly where the milk is going (well I don't know who exactly) but I know that a baby that really needs a bit of help obtaining nourishment will get it, and that makes me feel good.

BC Women's is the only operating milk bank in Canada, and I think that is sad. We as mothers are always being told how important it is to breast feed, or give breast milk to our babies to give them the best start in life. Here is an under funded facility enabling the most vulnerable and sickest babies get a good start. They rely on donations of milk to keep these babies fed, yet the lack of funding makes it difficult for donors to help unless they live in Vancouver. I'm not saying I want to be paid for doing this, no! Being paid would definitely take away from the warm, fuzzy feeling that I helped someone in need. I don't mind paying for the upkeep and parts for my pumps—I'm using them anyway. I don't even mind paying for the breast milk storage bags, (they can get a little pricey, though!) I just find it hard to get the milk to its final destination. It has to be kept frozen, so flying it there is the best choice, but I cannot afford to go with each shipment. I took the first one (with over 100 6 ounce bags) on a flight with Hawkair that my darling husband let me use. He won it at the Santa's breakfast raffle at the Hudson Bay Lodge. I have started another stockpile of milk, because when I made the 1^st delivery on March 30^th I had been informed that the milk bank was getting to the critical point for donations. The freezer was almost bare!

I believe in the good work of the BC Women's Milk Bank, so I will try to get more milk to them any way I possibly can. Their screening process is rigorous, for good reason, but it's worth it!

I answered health questionnaires, did a phone interview, gave permission for them to consult with my family physician, and last but not least had blood work done to show I was not afflicted with any one of a number of transmissible diseases. I recently read on the BC Women's website that $45,000 would run the milk bank for a year. Why can't the government help pay for this? It seems like a drop in the bucket to me, but I'm no politician, so what do I know?

I am going to do what I can for this organization, whether it be donating milk again or possibly money, as it seems they can use that too!

I can thank Best Health magazine. They were my catalyst. I wanted to donate after my second child, but found the whole process too daunting to carry out at the time. I had been having thoughts again when my ample milk supply came in after the birth of my 3^rd baby. The article was in the January issue and to read, and see photos brought the whole idea clearly into focus, made in seem more real and very worth doing.

This in a nutshell, is my story, and even though I will never see or know the recipients of the milk I donated, I like to think about how I gave them a bit of help in a time of need, and that makes me feel good!

I guess I can add a little epilogue to this writing, as I did make a second delivery of (only) 20 baggies, one of which I had just pumped out as excess that very morning. It was a rushed dash through YVR to meet the director of the bank between flights (I was actually heading to Victoria, but had a brief stopover in Vancouver.) It was worth it though, even the hassle of going back through security and having to explain to them why I had left the secure area, and was now needing back through--small details!

I made a third stockpile for them, and through online classifieds, found a family driving to Vancouver who were willing to take it for me.  To make everyone's life simpler, and cheaper! I used a Styrofoam cooler. I was never actually given confirmation that it arrived. I like to think that it did, as I had informed the bank to expect its approximate arrival. I had covered the cooler lid with a huge label saying where it was going, what it was, and who it was from. Maybe I am a sucker to have faith in people, but you have to have something.

So there it is, the story from both sides of my heart, and like blood--it was in me to give. My hard-working mammary glands produced over 26 litres that was just given away, without any sacrifice to my own flesh and blood.  They may not be beautiful, but they did a beautiful thing, and that is what is important.

Not sure if I will be able to do anything to top this, but there are still meaningful things I can do. Reflecting on this can only inspire me!      

Conquering a Fear...Long Solo Drive

I decided recently to visit a friend who lives over 1,000 kilometres away.  I kept thinking that as soon as I knew what days would work "presto" I would use Airmiles and take a couple of flights to get to where I wanted fairly toot sweet.  Life sped by a little too fast, and by the time I knew a timeframe, it was too late to use the trove of Airmiles.  Multiple texts later, a plan came to me--just drive there.  I don't know why the thought popped so freely into my mind.  I had never until this point ever driven longer than five hours anywhere by myself.  I have done many long road trips in the company of others, and swore I would never do it again. Not because I didn't enjoy the company.  I hated the monotony of sitting in a vehicle for hours at a time to get where I wanted to go.  I didn't subscribe to the motto about it being about the journey, and not the destination.  To me it was all about the destination! Get where I want to go--now!  I admit I had darker feelings about attempting a long solo drive.  I unfortunately retain memories of car crashes along the route I would be driving on. I know how easy it would be for me, or any other driver on the road to experience a lapse in concentration. Just the week prior to my adventure there was a crash less than two hours down the road, during daylight hours and good road conditions. Someone crossed the centre line and collided with someone else. End of person in the smaller vehicle.  I have a smaller vehicle.  I believe that any kind of force would probably make said vehicle squash like an unwanted beer can.  Nonetheless, it was decided.  I was going to do this (or die, or chicken out and turn around) I try to be optimistic, but still had niggles in my mind about what I was going to attempt. D-day (Driving, that is) arrived.  I had my stuff ready to go, so I just made one quick pit stop and took off.  The first hour or so was fairly familiar territory. Once I was driving out of Houston towards Topley, it started to feel like an adventure was upon me.  I had the music going--louder than usual--I might add, because it was just me, no one else to complain about volume or what song was belting out of the speakers.  Lucky for me it was sunny and the roads looked pretty good.  I drove uneventfully for a while longer, before noticing oops, the gas gauge was inching towards E.  Anyone who knows me, also knows I am anal about keeping the gas at a higher than empty level (fear of running out of gas). Approaching Fraser Lake, I decide that the needle is getting too cozy to that letter E, so pull in for gas.

Doing the whole prepay thing, I decide to go for sixty bucks. Small tank, but if it's empty--maybe.  The lady at the register kind of laughs and asks me if I'm sure. I figure it must be bone dry, so assure her that sixty should be close enough.  Head back out the pumps.  It's flowing in, over forty, hitting fifty, and then a moment later cuts out.  I look at the litres--just over 37, and its a 45 litre tank. Thanks gas gauge, you make me feel like an idiot. I probably could have gone for another hour or so on what was left. Oh well, back inside for my change.  The lady chuckles, "Didn't think it was going to take sixty," she says. Okay--haha, now gimmee my change, I think.  Back out on the road.

Finally hit Prince George mid-way through lunch hour. Traffic moving way too f--cking fast around me going into the city. I brake hard on the hill going down to the traffic light.  Oops, Check Engine light comes on.  No where to stop even if I wanted too.  Concentrate on getting through PG in one piece.  Turn too soon and end up in a hotel parking lot. Turn around and get where I want to be.  Bye, Prince George, see ya on the way back.  The stupid engine light is still on, but no smell, no overheating, everything seems right, so to hell with it, I keep going.

Now I have ideas in my head about how long all of this should take, but I think I must not have remembered correctly, or driven with a speed demon, cause I am thinking okay, only a couple more hours until my next turn-off point. Wrong.  I will now state here. It takes me three hours to drive from Prince George to Williams Lake, not an hour and a half or two hours like I figured. It was after 5 PM before I got to Clinton, and my next gas stop. Again my little black box on wheels made a liar of me. I decided to say fifty this time. It stopped at $43.75, yay! More change. Onwards to Cache Creek!
Made the simple turn at Cache Creek. Drove along an unfamiliar stretch of road leading to Savona and ultimately Kamloops.  Despite the fact the road was busy going through Kamloops, I just followed directional signs and stayed in the THRU traffic lane. Soon I see signs for an exit to Vernon. That's for me!  I exit with no fuss and down a much quieter stretch of highway.  The towns I pass through are small, and the road is windy. I pass through the village (I guess) of Falkland. As I drive through at the the required 50km/h, I see a billboard proclaiming they have a BEER ATM!  Now if I wasn't on my way to somewhere like right now, I would have stopped to investigate what a beer ATM was.
It was now fairly dark and I enter Vernon. I like that it is made easy for through traffic to navigate. Just stay on the main drag and you're outta there.  It starts to rain just as I see a sign for Oyama. Now I know I am getting close. Of course, that's when my temperamental driver side windshield wiper decides its had enough of wiping. F--ck it, I think and stay in the slow lane. Not much longer and I see signs for YLW. Yay, that was my entry point last time I visited. Then I got lost.  I drove all that way to waste a lot of time not knowing where the hell I had to go next.  Luckily I got rescued, but I made it.  I did a 12+hour drive all by my lonesome.

The return trip was almost in reverse, except instead of going north, I headed west out of town via Merritt, skirted around Kamloops and back the way I came in the days previous.  I had more confidence on the return trip, but was still wary.  It amazes even me the way the story about the ambulance crash in Hixon, two years previously started running through my head as I passed the hospital in Quesnel. I kept thinking about how the poor woman's time was up.  She had been in a car accident the day previously, and the next day was in an ambulance north bound to the larger hospital in Prince George.  The news reported that the ambulance was in a collision near Hixon, and that everyone in the ambulance, except the patient was okay. The woman died. I couldn't help but shudder a little the whole way from Quesnel to Prince George. I amazed myself by still feeling up to it to finish the last leg of the drive from PG to Smithers. Pit stop at the Vanderhoof Timmy's for me, and a pit stop again at Fraser Lake for the car.  The last hour or so was in the dark, but seeing that it was familiar territory I felt okay.  I remember rolling down the hill and crossing the bridge over the Bulkley River. Yep, I made it there and back, without any real incident.
The engine light went off once I got to Kelowna, and it hasn't come back on since, so I totally consider it to be a non-event. (I think the hard braking on the hill from highway speed was what did it!)
So, I learned that I can handle a long, solo road trip. I will likely always be wary, but maybe that helps too.
Does it mean I want to go on another road trip?  Hell no, at least not for a long while.
Not sure where my next destination will be, but I hope it's somewhere that has an airport!              

Ode to Smithers, on the Marking of a Centennial

2013 marks the centennial year for the Town of Smithers, in northwestern British Columbia.  I have been pondering for some time what the marking of this occasion means to me.  What better way to celebrate the Centennial than to write an ode to the special place I call home. While I may not have been born in Smithers, the town is special to me for many reasons.  True, as I stated, I was not born here, but then again, one doesn't choose where one is born.  My family first came to Smithers in the summer of 1989 to visit an aunt who had recently relocated to the town.  We stayed for several weeks.  I remember vividly the thunderstorms that summer. We sat on my aunt's back doorstep, eating popcorn to watch the show put on for us by Mother Nature.  We had to go home before the Fall Fair, but it turned out that about three weeks later we returned to Smithers to live.  My stint as a resident of this fair town therefore began in September of 1989.  For the first while I missed my hometown, as I had lived there most of my life up until that point. Smithers was so much different geographically.  The mountains, lakes, and rivers were gorgeous, but I was used to the scent of salt air and the sound of seagulls.  The town itself was a lot smaller than where I was from, so there was also that change to take into account. It took some time, but I soon realized that Smithers had more to offer me than the city I had left.  Ever after that I was happy to go back to my hometown for visits, but was more than happy to return after the visit was over.  This is when I realized that I now considered Smithers to be home.  

What's to love about this town you ask?  Geographically the place is beautiful.  The mountains are majestic, no matter the season.  The river offers a scenic view, in addition to excellent fishing, boating, or tubing opportunities.  There are numerous lakes for swimming, skating, fishing, you name it. There is a perimeter trail that winds around the town, (again, scenery), the air smells good as you walk along. The town lends itself to walking, and biking.  Truly as the town slogan once said it is "a town for all seasons."  As soon as the ground is covered in white stuff, winter activities are embraced with vigour.
The people are a major component of what makes Smithers great.  There is a wonderful sense of community and pride here.  Many people have worked hard to make this town what it is today, and that attitude is still present. 
As far as I am concerned, Smithers is the perfect size town.  It isn't so small that your neighbours know everything about you and your affairs, but it's small enough that you are assured of seeing a familiar, friendly face while downtown.  It is large enough to have essential amenities like the railway, bus station, airport, hospital, and government services, but not so large that you get lost downtown, or face stressful commutes to work. 

So, thank you Town of Smithers!  I feel honoured to call you my home for all of these years.  I'm not going to say that I will live here forever, but for the time being I am grateful for the opportunity to have let this jewel of a town get under my skin. I am proud to be a part of Smithers, and that it is a part of me.

Happy 100 years, Smithers, BC!  May you continue to flourish and fill me with pride to call you my home.     

Much Ado About Our Shape

I kind of feel like I could go off the deep end about this, yet I feel the need to rant on it, so bear with me.  My topic of choice is to do with our shape.  Not the actual shape we're in, which is important, but the shape of our bodies.  It seems our society is obsessed with it. Everywhere I look I see articles scrutinizing people for having a bulge here or there that is deemed out of place.  It seems that the "unattractive" extra body baggage warrants more of a comment than something important like the good someone is doing with their life. We put so much pressure on ourselves and others to achieve the perfect body--yet when I stop and think about it, who had the right to decide what was perfect for everyone?  We are all different heights, we all have different hair, eye, and skin colours, so who made the societal rule that we all have to strive to be the same shape? I thought variety was the spice of life.  Don't get me wrong, I am not advocating we all sit around gaining excessive pounds to revolt against the norm.  I just think we should re-think our inner critics.  I always tell my kids that commenting on someone's appearance (other than to compliment them) is unnecessary. We all know our shortcomings, and don't need the words of others to discourage us or otherwise put us down. We can do that for ourselves. As I sit typing this I think of my own "spare tire", but I also think about the fact that my body has served me well up until this point, and hope that it will continue to do so.  I also like to think about the expression about life being a journey, so I am a work-in-progress always, and I can be encouraged to think if I don't like something about myself, there are tons of ways I can go about trying to change, and learning along the way.

My inspiration for this rant was an article I read about how refreshing the writer found it that the Duchess of Cambridge was not "ashamed" to be seen in public sporting a bump post-natal.  My first thought was WTF? She had a baby less than 48 hours previously. Why the hell would anyone expect her to look as she did nine months ago? She just had an almost eight and a half pound human residing inside her.  Look, I don't know where we all got screwed up, but taking from my own experiences, we women are not balloons.  It's not a baby plus air in there. We don't just "pop" and POOF, back to our pre-pregnant size.  Everything is all squishy and tender after our little miracles make their exit. I admit, waterbed belly doesn't look or feel great, but right after having a baby it was the least of my worries anyhow.  I admit as the preggie belly receded, I tried squeezing into old jeans too, but the honest truth was, my innards were still too tender even though I could zip and button.  I agree with the writer, good for Kate that she was confident enough in herself to go before the masses, looking well, pretty darn good.  

While thinking about the whole postpartum look debate, I went back a bit and thought about another shape-related pet peeve I have.  I absolutely HATE when people comment to a pregnant woman using the word FAT.  Damn it people! That hard roundness is not fat!  Maybe the round shape is fooling you, but again from personal experience I can tell you I was not fat, I was pregnant. That means my outline was round because I was home to a developing human being. Some fat may have been involved, but not enough to say that I was fat. Hell, I was TWO people.  If I had my way, no one would be allowed to ever again call a pregnant woman fat.

I just think that we as a species have enough to worry about in this world of ours than what other people feel they have to say about our shape. Just think, not one of us is a perfect specimen in any way, shape, or form. So what gives us the right to make others feel bad about their shortcomings?  I am guilty too, but I have tried to be more mindful, especially thinking about the adages "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all." or "Do unto others as you would have done unto you."  This is something I am trying to instill into my young ones, sometimes without much success, but I will keep plugging at it.  Sure we may not be the right shape by someone else's standards, but if you look, the shape of something else might be just right, like their heart, or their drive, or their attitude. It may be cliche, but my personal goal is to not judge the book by its cover, because you just never know what treasure you might be overlooking if you judge on appearance alone.  I will end with the quote I am fond of... "I am in shape--Round is a shape!"