Tuna Sandwich

Growing up we were poor. I knew we were poor, but I never thought we were super poor or anything, more like lower middle class. But here's the thing about "poor" it can be relative. So relative to the people I went to school with, more than half were better off than we were, but there was still a handful that was way worse.

Standing here blogging, I'm eating a tuna sandwich, and while its so yummy, there's a taste of bitterness that goes into making every sandwich. Thinking back to a summer spent with my father (my parents separated when I was about 5 years old so every other weekend and holiday was with dad as well as summers) I must have been about 8 or 9, maybe a little older, and I made myself a couple tuna sandwiches. My step-mother comes into the kitchen and starts yelling at me for only making two sandwiches out of one can of tuna and not four. I mean, this woman didn't just get a little upset, she looses her shit for a good whole five minutes on how she can get four sandwiches out of one can and that I can't just think about myself when making food.
Well dang, I felt terrible for my mistake, but to this day I still can't understand how she got four sandwiches. Look, I can get three, tops, but four? More than that, who freaks out over a can of tuna? How's that for poor? A can of tuna back then was what, maybe 60 cents? Was is really about a can of tuna then? Or was it that my parents were on again off again drug users? And how many questions can I fit into one paragraph?

These are random thoughts I have over every day activities. I don't want to screw up my kids so I end up question myself a lot and it's exhausting.

Wost Part of My Day

Momma (or is it mama? mah-ma) is in a funk.

Can I tell you the worst part of my day?

The worst part of my day is mornings, when I go into my closet and see nothing. Nothing. Yes, there are lots of clothes on the hangers, pants on the shelf, a pile of dirty clothes in the hamper, but there is nothing that fits me right. I should be thankful I have any clothes at all, but my clothes are outdated, out of season, stained, too small or too big, and in a word- ugly. At one point they looked great, maybe. But even great clothes can look bad on the wrong shape, and that's my problem right now, I'm the wrong shape.

So there I stand, staring at a closet full of clothes, hating my shape and I just want to cry. And sometimes I do. What a lovely way to start the day, huh? I've been living in leggins and the style (if you can even call it a style) is getting old. What about a girls night out? Skirts are my go-to, but I don't always feel like wearing a skirt and sometimes it's too windy or cold.

Why don't you just go an buy new clothes, Jen (assuming I'd even have time)?

Here's my delema, I'm between sizes. I can squeeze into a size 8, and even though my tummy bellows over my jeans, the legs fit great. Or I can go to a size 10, and the legs are way too wide and long and when I sit the back puckers out exposing my granny panties; Ya know, because finding underwear that covers my entire bottom doesn't exist (thank you freaking Victoria Secret, 20 year olds, and ladies with tight buts who set fashion trends for the rest of us). Oh, and shirts! Because I'm breastfeeding I now have ginormous breasts that fluctuate in size throughout the day. My 13 year old jr high self would be in amazement right now and rejoicing. What my 13 year old self failed to realize is that it's next to impossible to find a flattering shirt that doesn't also make me look like Shamu because I'm a little top heavy these days. And to add to all of it, I'm pretty fashion sense inept. I have zero concept of fashion trends or how to pull them off with my stubby little cherub figure. Do you all realize fashion trends are set for those 5' 7" and over?? 

Yes, my body has built and pushed out two beautiful humans, but right now I'm in a total funk. So many thoughts running through my head. I should be okay with where I am now. About 10lbs heavier than when I got pregnant and only 11 weeks postpartum. But I'm pissed that this body of mine doesn't look good in anything. I'm upset none of my clothes fit right.  And I'm sad I haven't bought new clothes in a while because I'm waiting to "get my body back".

I don't share all this with you to get sympathy/empathy or even ask for words of encouragement. I share because I know there are more out there like me. A wonderful woman and friend of mine has offered to take pictures of my family and for one reason or another we've had to reschedule. I confessed to her that I was dreading taking pictures because of body image insecurity. She laughed and said, "oh, so you mean you're dealing with postpartum crap?" It was great seeing her write that out, because it reminded me I'm not alone. Many women go through exactly what I described above, but it's not something we all talk about. So here's a lovey reminder, this time can suck right now, but like I told my husband last night, sometimes I need a good cry, time to listen to sad music, take a nice long hot shower, sleep, and in the morning things will look better.

Thoughts running through my head:

there is no happiness without sadness
there is no pleasure without pain
there are no friends without foes
beauty does not exist without ugly
peace wouldn't be a word without war
there is no life without death
You can't be filled if you've never been empty
      I believe we make our own heaven and hell right here on earth, and without one you don't have    the other. I have made a heaven of hellish things and other times knocked my heaven right out of the sky.
     There absolutely needs to be balance in all things of life. "working towards perfection" does not exist without mistakes.
And finally, there is no renewal without first being trashed.

There is my ode, little pieces of my mind.