A while ago I had a few emails in a row that rocked my confidence to blog. Why? Because they were filled with rage at the audacity for how much I love my life and with disbelief at how I could possible like myself.
In short HOW VERY DARE YOU.
They pointed out my luck and mocked my blind stupid confidence that everything will turn out pretty much OK.
In a few short emails I had all my “flaws” picked out and so much pity for my kids who’s lives, it seems, are being fucked up by me as we speak. Who said we could choose to live a different life and it could be so so awesome?
HOW VERY DARE I.
I know you’re not supposed to take trolling to heart, but it was pretty difficult not to.
Who am I to be a privileged, flawed, fat, homeschooling asshole with a blog? And who said I could be happy about it?
You know what? I DO. I say it’s actually fine and dandy.
I really do fucking love my life. I know fat women are supposed to hate themselves and kids are supposed to be this terrible inconvenience that are best dealt with by someone else.
But these things just aren’t true for me.
Am I grateful? YES. Every day yes. Am I grateful enough for someone who doesn’t know me at all? I don’t know, and I’m not sure why I even cared.
Do I know how it’s all going to turn out? NOPE. Guess what? Nobody does. So there must come an end for everyone, but before then? We’re choosing the different path, which is for us the happier one.
Life is too short and precious to care if you are upsetting people who don’t even know you. In fact most people don’t give you a second thought at all. How liberating is that?
So skip school to go to the beach, dye your hair green, read your kids that book one more time before bed, let them choose the biggest cupcake, wear “unflattering” clothes if they’re comfy, cry if you need to-even in public. Be real. Know that boldly being yourself inspires others to do the same.
Pump this one up and dance around