Things I’m Afraid To Tell You is a new blogger meme (for lack of a better term) that’s sweeping across bloggers all over the Internet. Bloggers are opening up and sharing things about themselves that they wouldn’t normally share with strangers–and let’s face it, many of you readers are strangers.
As the opening post in this tough week, I decided I’d jump on the bandwagon and out with a few things that most people, but especially strangers, probably don’t know about me. So… here we go.
I sweat. A lot.
In fact, I’ve had quite a few doctors confirm hyperhydrosis. But I haven’t gotten the surgery yet because it’s not 100% confirmed if my insurance will cover it, and if they do, I have to start all the prescription deodorant treatments all over again in order for it to happen. I hated those treatments. One didn’t do anything but burn. Another ruined my clothes… and after that, I was done trying prescription anti-sweat treatments. Instead, I’ve tried numerous other deodorants, I know what colors not to wear ever (heather grey being the worst offender), and I just deal with pit stains. They embarrass the hell out of me, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m not about to pay for this surgery out of pocket, because I’d rather get an IUD if I’m going to pay for something elective out of pocket–pit stains are a lot easier to deal with than a kid I’m not ready for.
I spent $80 on shoes I’ll probably never actually wear.
And I’m ok with it. I bought one of the pairs of Christian Siriano for Payless claw heels (the “All Done Up” mary jane, to be specific), and have only worn them twice ever–for photoshoots. So really, I’ve had them on to walk around inside for a little, and then lovingly put them back in the box and stored them away. They’re a little tight, and could probably be stretched and then worn, but I’d probably still never wear them. I don’t want anything to happen to them!
I’ve actually considered shadowboxing them and mounting them as art. At some point, I may do just that. But for now, these beautiful shoes will remain a splurge purchase that I’ll likely never actually wear because I’m too afraid of something happening to them.
Use caution when talking about dogs with me.
I get downright vicious when people tell me they’re thinking of buying a puppy from a pet store. From the moment I first heard about puppy mills and learned that that’s where pet store puppies came from, I made it my mission to educate people about them. For years I worked with organizations that fought mills and rescued dogs from them, and even ran a website myself for quite some time to help educate people. I’ve picketed in front of pet stores and handed out flyers at events. I’ve stopped doing a lot of that the past couple years, simply because I found I didn’t have the time, and it was more important for me to spend the time with my own (rescued) dog than not, but I still try to keep friends and family educated about the problem with puppy mills and irresponsible breeders and encourage them to adopt from a shelter or go through a breed-specific rescue. And if someone I know (or even just met) tells me they’re thinking of going the pet store route, I will tell them it’s a stupid decision, and why.
I’ve even gone as far to let family members, including my own mother, know that if they buy a puppy from a pet store or irresponsible breeder (especially if it’s a designer “breed” that’s really a first-generation mutt with a fancy name) that I will disown them and hate them forever. So far, no one has forced me to make good on that threat, but I stand by it, and will if I have to.
It was easy to relate to the shopping addict on Intervention.
And that’s when I knew I had to start reevaluating my spending habits. I knew that if I didn’t start seriously thinking about what I was buying, and why, I was going to end up just like her. I didn’t want to be like her, in major debt, still buying clothes, begging for money to pay for rent or food. I didn’t want to end up, as Carrie Bradshaw put it in Sex And The City, the old woman who lived in her shoes.
And the fact that I could relate to a shopping addict who was so far down into her addiction that Intervention had her on an episode, among seriously ill drug addicts? Kinda scary.
I hated myself for 26 years.
I wasn’t good enough, because I wasn’t perfect. And because I wasn’t perfect, I couldn’t be the person I wanted to be. And because I couldn’t be that person, I didn’t feel like I was worthy of being the person I am.
My body was never good enough–too skinny for some people, too cellulitey for myself. My face wasn’t good enough–too ordinary and sometimes downright ugly for myself. My hair was terrible–too flat, way too straight, and a boring color. I wasn’t smart enough–a barely B student overall who sucked at math, and who’s downfall in chemistry proved to be the failure of a biology major and the veterinary practice I dreamed of. I couldn’t sing, was never flexible enough to do anything cool in dance or cheerleading, and didn’t have any other actual, outstanding talents to speak of. To put it bluntly, I was average. And I hated being average. I wanted to be more. I’d always been told I was more, so why wasn’t I?
Eventually though, I realized that just because I wasn’t perfect, didn’t mean I wasn’t good enough. Long story short, I did a lot of internal realizations, and came to the conclusion that I was a good person, with a pretty bangin’ body, who cared deeply for other people and for animals, and that there was nothing wrong with being average. In fact, I realized that what I thought of as “average” many people considered “extraordinary”.
Strangely enough, a lot of this realization came about because of modeling. Getting into modeling showed me that I was, in fact, more than just an average person going nowhere in life. It gave me ambitions, drive, and knowledge about things other people didn’t have. It brought new people into my life–healthy people who understood me and helped push me to become something great, both as a model and a person.
So I have modeling to thank for teaching me that I’m more than just an average person. Strange, how that works, huh?
I still have my baby blanket, Duckie B.
It’s in the bottom drawer of my nightstand, tucked in with a much-loved Cheer Bear and two Fisher Price bun-buns. I can’t bear to part with any of it, though I did give my cousin a one of my duplicate bun-buns when she had her first kid. The rest? They’ll stay where they are. Except when I need the kind of comfort my husband and the dog can’t provide, then I’ll pull out my Duckie B and cry into it. I did just that when both my grandparents passed away. And it made me feel a little better.
I’m staggeringly not confident in myself.
And I know it. Quite often, it takes me quite awhile to build up the confidence to go for something. I know it stems from my lack of self-confidence in general–my thinking I’m not good enough–and I’ve been working to curb those negative thoughts, but it’s hard.
This blog for example. I’d wanted for quite awhile to do something more than just the modeling blog I maintained. But I didn’t think I could do it. Not because of the time involved, but simply because I kept thinking “my style is so simple, no one would care about it”. Meanwhile, a few close friends were urging me to start a style blog, telling me I could compete with some of the best out there. I thought they were full of it. But eventually I came to my senses, and here we are.
The lack of confidence, though, is something that often holds me back… sometimes in a big way. Like I said, I’m working on it… but I have a long way to go.
Interested in more Things I’m Afraid To Tell You?
Here’s an article on the phenomenon, and here’s a linkup as well as a little background on TIATTY. And, if you’re interested, here’s the actual first TIATTY post. Enjoy… and if you’re a fellow blogger, jump on in!
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