Sunday, 6 January 2013

My apologies for the boobs

To those who have had the unfortunate sighting of my boobs spilling out of my bra, my muffin top in a skin tight friends,harde. I didn't know any better.
See, I didn't really know I was fat. I was told I'm big boned, the perfect weight for my height and all other manners of medical sounding terms that any Mpho off the street could conjure to avoid confirming that I'm fat.
I then trained my mind to ignore everything the mirror screamed at me and concentrated on the Mpho's in my life.
I had Tsubi as a friend. Tsubi is almost like Katie Boyd typa body. I fooled myself into believing I was also likely a fatal mistake!

I've just gone thru my old Facebook pictures. I seem to have gone thru a very long phase of believing my boobs were God's gift to the Facebook communities. I feel humiliated, those pictures have been there for YEARS. Even as my profile pictures, meaning even people who weren't my friends got to be assaulted by the sight of my boobs squeezed out of a too low cleavaged dress, shirt,anything! Gosh, it seems I went out of my way to ensure whatever I wore exposed me to the max.
And of course all my friends clapped and whooped at how amazing I looked. Its a relief to see my Close-6 have all at the same time transformed and its Truth-Even-if-It-Hurts all the way.

Just goes to show, when you don't know any better, you really don't. I do wish someone my age had kindly told me then. My mom ALWAYS pleaded with me about the boobs. Mama Jabs would staple my clothes together. I thought: what do they know?
I had to adjust my jeans, my top, my bra every five minutes and on standing up, gimme at least ten minutes to adjust and pull was a whole big mess.

For those who had the unfortunate hook up with me in crocs(even thou mine were Sketchers), I'm so sorry. It was wrong on every level. I should respect you all enough to make an effort when leaving my house. It was completely unacceptable for me to not care enough to even put on some gloss or proper shoes. If I was going to meet Victoria Beckham I'd make an effort mos? So why not make effort for the people who will actually remember me after meeting with me?

I now find it so insulting when a friend 'pops around' in pjs. Like, wth? Are you 16? Why are you out of your house looking like a mess? What if you got stopped over on your way? Was I going to come bail you out looking like that? Why would I? I'd let them keep you there on a charge of offending the public's eyes. Look presentable hle. We should be able to move around without you needing to change for the slightest move. Clean jeans, a top and proper shoes ALWAYS works. A simple dress and sandals or pumps. A handbag ladies!

Thankfully, with God's love and grace, I have transformed. I must say I love this transformation. Its a good feeling to get up and go without adjusting. To be covered, simple, breathing and comfortable, truly comfortable in what I'm wearing.
I know all the responses to justify my muffin-top in oversized trackpants look. I also know that deep inside, the truth lives.
I hope all the people reading this, if they have the same issues I had, look at what is being said. Its true, what matters is how you see yourself. However, like I had, you may have missed a lil something, trust those who love you to help you fix it.
I've learnt to trust the people who love me. You know what my best response to this trust was?
Gugu had never had makeup on her. I decided to introduce her to it. She doesn't need it, neither do a lot of people who use it. Its a nice way to enhance one's feautures, is fun to put on and it helps one look 'put together' in my opinion. I love it!
Anyway, I asked her to turn so she could see what I'm doing to her in the mirror as I did it. She said, 'no babes, you know what you're doing. I trust you' Wow, that's BIG to me. I could've been making her into a clown lookalike...she trusted me to not cake her up and hide HER with makeup. Of course I did it perfectly! A lil powder here and there, some eyeliner, minimal eyeshadow and that was all we needed.

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