We all do it – someone pays
us a compliment like “what a beautiful blouse” and instead of a “thank you” we
say “it would be even nicer if I could lose the spare tire under the blouse!”
Why do we always pick out
our flaws and rarely focus on what we LIKE about ourselves?
Did you know that Heidi
Clum and Brad Pitt have “flaws”? Sure! We all do. Wouldn’t we be annoyed or
think it’s ridiculous if they started complaining about what they thought they
could improve?
Well it’s the same for
YOU!
There is always someone
who admires something about you right now!
YOU need to start focusing on what you like about yourself and not what
you’d like to change. Sticking to a healthier lifestyle will be more attainable
if you can learn how to love yourself the way you are NOW and decide that YOU
DESERVE to continue to become healthier for YOU!
Think about it –
confidence is the SEXIEST accessory out there.
We all know that girl that society calls “pretty, skinny, etc” who isn’t
happy with herself. She gives off a
self-conscious energy and seems to sink into herself.
But we also know some
extremely confident full figured women/men who may not at first be the most “attractive”
in the stereotypical sense but walk into a room with their head held high and a
huge smile and we think they are captivating!
Their confidence makes them attractive!
Think about this next time
you are on a date or spending “time” with your partner. How would you like it if they started
complaining about their weight, etc. when you already love them for the person
they are? A bit of a turn-off eh? So try it – every day when you look in the
mirror pick out one thing you like about yourself and hold that with you all
day – and if you see something you don’t then keep it to yourself, acknowledge
it if it’s something you could slowly work to change, and replace it with a
positive thought.
Believe it or not being
sexy comes from the inside.
I found the above included
in a blog called *Confidence * The Sexiest Accessory* at
http://healthyconfidentyou.com/
Gabourey "Gabby"
Sidibe is an American actress who made her acting debut in the 2009 film Precious,
a role that brought her a nomination for the Academy Award for Best Actress.
From 2010 to 2013, she was a main cast member of the Showtime series The Big C. She co-starred on the
television series American Horror Story: Coven as Queenie.
Gabby was spoke recently
at the Gloria Awards and Gala hosted by the Ms. Foundation for Women. It also doubled as Gloria Steinem’s 80th
birthday party. Ms. Steinmen co-founded
Ms. Magazine and has long been an energetic activist for women’s rights. Obviously Gabby is not your typical cover
girl … but she does have what the rest of us might be lacking … SELF
CONFIDENCE.
SELF CONFIDENCE is the
major ingredient in accomplishing anything and achieving your goals, no matter
what they are … and that includes making lifestyle changes. I was quite impressed and inspired by what
she said so I thought it would be good to share it here.
We all need a
self-confidence booster now and again!
I'm so excited to be here. Really, really excited. Okay, I'll get to it.
Hi. One of the first things people usually ask me is, "Gabourey, how are
you so confident?" I hate that. I always wonder if that's the first thing
they ask Rihanna when they meet her. "RiRi! How are you so
confident?" Nope. No. No. But me? They ask me with that same incredulous
disbelief every single time. "You seem so confident! How is that?"
When I was ten years old, in the fifth grade, my teacher, Miss Lowe had
announced that my class would be having a holiday party right before the
Christmas break. She asked if we all could bring snacks or soda or juice to the
class party. She also said we had the option of cooking something, if we like.
I was so excited. I immediately decided that I would make gingerbread cookies,
and that everyone would love them. I told my mom my plan, and I asked her for
money to go buy the ingredients. She thought I should just buy store-bought
cookies, but I told her, "Those cookies didn't have enough love in
them!" I had to make the cookies. So I bought the mix, and I bought cookie
cutters in the shape of Christmas trees and bells, and I made a practice batch
of cookies that went horribly wrong. Good thing they were a practice batch.
They were awful. And then the night before the party, I made another batch of
cookies. And they were also awful, but they looked a lot better. I carefully
put the cookies in a Ziplock bag, so I could take them to school the next day.
When I got to school that morning, I could not wait until that party. And I was
so proud of those cookies, and all the effort I put into making them, I started
to think that maybe I wouldn't just be the first woman black President * maybe
I would also be a celebrity chef! I mean, why limit myself?
The party was set to take place during the last hour of school, and I
waited excitedly for it all day long. Finally, it was party time. My teacher
asked what everyone brought, and I proudly announced that I had baked cookies
for the class. I think I felt prouder knowing that everyone else just bought
stuff. I was the only one who made anything, because clearly, I'm a little more
clever than anyone else. So as the party starts up, I walk around the class,
proudly offering cookies to everyone. No one took a cookie. No one. No one
except Nicholas, who was the first person I offered one to. But after a few of
our other classmates set him straight, he actually caught up with me as I
walked around the class, and gave the cookie back. I walked around the class
trying to hand out cookies to my class, until I ended up back at my desk with
the same amount of cookies that I started with. I sat at my desk alone, eating
those gross gingerbread cookies that took hours to make, all by myself. I put
chocolate chips in them, that's why they were gross. I wasn't surprised. I just
forgot for a moment that my entire class hated me. I had zero friends from the
fourth grade to the sixth grade. Who the hell was I baking cookies for? I really
got so excited to bake that I had forgotten that everyone hated my guts. Why
didn't they like me? I was fat, yes. I had darker skin and weird hair, yes. But
the truth is, this isn't a story about bulling, or color, or weight. They hated
me because... I was an asshole!
Yep. I was a bossy, bossy asshole. See, remember when I said that I
thought I was more clever than everyone else? Well, I did! And I told them that
* every single day! Those kids couldn't get a word in edgewise, without me
cutting them off to remind them that I was smarter, funnier, and all around
wittier than them. I was always sarcastic * I called it my birth defect. And
let's face it, kids don't get sarcasm. They don't appreciate it. They never
knew what I was talking about. And when they would say, "Wait...
huh?" I would say, "My God, Alicia, read a book!" I know. I
spoke differently than them, I just did. I sounded more like a Valley Girl than
a Brooklyn girl. My classmates always asked me if I was adopted by white people.
I'd say, "No. Both my parents went to college." I know that was rude,
but I'm still really proud of that. To be fair, in my neighborhood, not
everyone's parents had the opportunity to go to college. Most of my classmates'
parents were teens when they had them. My parents had me at age 30. My father
was born in Senegal. His father was the mayor of the capital city, Dakar, and
my dad often took my brother and I back home with him to visit Africa, while
most of my classmates had never stepped out of the Lower East Side. My mother
was a teacher in high school, that's why I went there, but my mom also had a
voice, so when I was nine, she quit her teaching job to go sing in the subway.
She actually made more money as a singer for tips than she made as a teacher! I
know! And she was quickly becoming the underground version of Whitney Houston.
She was the strongest, smartest, and most talented person I had ever known.
Even today, I don't want to grow up to be anyone as much as I want to grow up
to be her. I know!
The point is, I was a snob. I thought I was better than the kids in my
class, and I let them know it. That's why they didn't like me. I think the
reason I thought so highly of myself all the time was because no one else ever
did. I figured out I was smart because my mother would yell at my older
brother. She'd say, "Your little sister is going to pass you in school.
You're going to get left behind and she's going to graduate before you."
But she never said to me, "You are smart." What she did say was, "You
are too fat." I got the message that I wasn't pretty, and I probably
wasn't normal, but I was smart! Why wouldn't they just say that? "You're
smart." It's actually not that hard. My dad would yell at my brother,
"Gabourey does her homework by herself! Why can't you?" But he never
said to me, "Good job." What he did say was, "You need to lose
weight so I can be proud of you." I know. So I got made fun of at school,
I got made fun of at home too, my older brother hated me, my dad just didn't
understand me, and my mom, who had been a fat girl at my age herself,
understood me perfectly ... but she berated me because she was so afraid of
what she knew was to come for me. So I never felt safe when I was at home. And
my response was always to eat more, because nothing says, "You hurt my
feelings. F*** you!" like eating a delicious cookie. Cookies never hurt
me.
"Gabourey, how are you so confident?" It's not easy. It's hard
to get dressed up for award shows and red carpets when I know I will be made
fun of because of my weight. There's always a big chance if I wear purple, I
will be compared to Barney. If I wear white, a frozen turkey. And if I wear
red, that pitcher of Kool-Aid that says, "Oh, yeah!" Twitter will
blow up with nasty comments about how the recent earthquake was caused by me
running to a hot dog cart or something. And "Diet or Die?" [She gives
the finger to that] This is what I deal with every time I put on a dress. This
is what I deal with every time someone takes a picture of me. Sometimes when
I'm being interviewed by a fashion reporter, I can see it in her eyes,
"How is she getting away with this? Why is she so confident? How does she
deal with that body? Oh my God, I'm going to catch fat!"
What I would say, is my mom moved my brother and I to my aunt's house.
Her name is Dorothy Pitman Hughes, she is a feminist, an activist, and a
lifelong friend of Gloria Steinem. Every day, I had to get up and go to school
where everyone made fun of me, and I had to go home to where everyone made fun
of me. Every day was hard to get going, no matter which direction I went. And
on my way out of the house, I found strength. In the morning on the way out to
the world, I passed by a portrait of my aunt and Gloria together. Side by side
they
So, okay, we're back in fifth grade, and I just had been
rejected by 28 kids in a row. And I was sitting alone at my desk, with an empty
Ziplock bag, crumbs in my lap, and I was at this great party that I had waited
for all week. I waited all week for this party that I wasn't invited to. And
for some reason I got up, I sat on my desk, and I partied my ass off. I laughed
loudly when something funny happened. And when Miss Lowe put on music, I was
one of the first ones to get up and dance. I joined the limbo, and ate chips,
and drank soda, and I enjoyed myself, even though no one wanted me there. You
know why? I told you * I was an asshole! I wanted that party! And what I want
trumps what 28 people want me to do, especially when what they want me to do is
leave. I had a great time. I did. And if I somehow ruined my classmates' good
time, then that's on them. "How are you so confident?" "I'm an
asshole!" Okay? It's my good time, and my good life, despite what you
think of me. I live my life, because I dare. I dare to show up when everyone
else might hide their faces and hide their bodies in shame. I show up because
I'm an asshole, and I want to have a good time. And my mother and my father
love me. They wanted the best life for me, and they didn't know how to
verbalize it. And I get it. I really do. They were better parents to me than
they had themselves. I'm grateful to them, and to my fifth grade class, because
if they hadn't made me cry, I wouldn't be able to cry on cue now. [Dabs tears]
If I hadn't been told I was garbage, I wouldn't have learned how to show people
I'm talented. And if everyone had always laughed at my jokes, I wouldn't have
figured out how to be so funny. If they hadn't told me I was ugly, I never
would have searched for my beauty. And if they hadn't tried to break me down, I
wouldn't know that I'm unbreakable. [Dabs tears] So when you ask me how I'm so
confident, I know what you're really asking me: how could someone like me be
confident? Go ask Rihanna, asshole!
Now I am in now way suggesting that we all become
“assholes” while trying to make lifestyle changes, but sometimes we need to put
on our big girl panties and decide to get the job done … no matter what anyone
says. Embrace the people who are
supporting you and those that aren’t as supportive – embrace them even tighter
and prove them wrong!
Most importantly … prove
to yourself that you can do it and are worth the effort!
Remember, if we are always
thinking in terms of
“I wish I could be… “
“I want to, but …”
“I hate it when I …”
Then we will never be
happy.
It’s ok to want to change
things about ourselves but first we need to take a step back and learn to love
ourselves from the START ... and AVOID the promise that we will love ourselves
ONLY WHEN we attain a certain goal.
Because guess what… there
will always be something on your list of wants/hates/wishes.
Start thinking about in
terms of
“I love …”
“I like…” and,
“I am proud of myself
because …”
