the beginning of discovery?

even though i have a feeling no one is reading this... here are some thoughts tonight:
i'm freaking out because my life is just zooming in fast forward and i feel like there is this little or shall i say BIG force constantly pushing me forward and is like "come on, gentry move it!!!" and i just want to turn around and slap this "force" upside the head and be like "hold on honey give me a freakin minute i'm thinking!"
whew. so yeah. life is just really picking up speed. i've starting picking up strange insecurities recently too, like my strange growth spurt and rapid weight gain. i mean, who goes from a size 0 to 4 in a matter of months? this is where i would "hash tag # whitegirlproblems. this is what i have wanted my entire life! weight gain...growing up i just felt so gangly and awkward and being called names or being picked on was just...not fun. and now that i am finally growing into my body as a woman i'm like whoaaa hello curves! it's just making me view my body in so many different ways and looking in the mirror, do i love what i see? who wakes up in the morning, looks in the mirror and says "i love my freakin body!" and this got me thinking, about body image. in today's fast paced media driven world, we are constantly looking at others "perfect" model bodies.  the show "toddlers and tiaras" had me watching for almost 5 hours straight. terrifying, mesmerizing. jaw dropping. hilarious. then just plain....scary. these 5 year olds are transformed into what? is that how women are viewed? do we have to have the spray tan, perfect curled locks, sequins and sparkles (wait i LOVE sequins and sparkles)  flaunting our appearance.  no wonder so many of us have body image issues, we are all staring at each other comparing each other. but sometimes i think nowadays, my biggest judge is myself.  i critique and give myself ratings and most of the time i put on make up because i want to feel better about myself and hardly ever leave the house without it on. whew that was a confession.
at the end of the day, am i happy? can i go to sleep not thinking about how i want to sculpt my body or dream of having bronzed skin (i'm scottish/german, that will NEVER happen) or having perfect complexion or not stressing about acne. these little things, but they CONSUME my mind sometimes. and it makes me wonder. what caused these feelings? what is the root of this? i am a healthy 22 year old woman with 10 fingers and 10 toes...but why is it that i want more. i want to be better.  one thing i am thankful for is i did not go through with getting a "boob job" when i turned 18.  that was my goal when i was 15. i wasn't excited that i would be able to vote, but i was excited that i could get a "boob job." ew. i like being able to wear shirts without a bra or go running without having to worry about things flopping around. my butt on the other hand...  ha ha

P.S. sorry about the grammar, writing style, pretty much everything about the way i write. things just flow out of my head and i have to write what comes out!

Also, comments are appreciated! whether they are your own insecurities, stories of getting bullied, rants, problems you name it. i'd like to hear it. i'm working on a solo performance about body image and i want more voices to be heard.

Candy Land

the past year has changed me
growing growing growing
when will it just stop?
ok i get it now...
wait do i?
starting from zero and now i'm at the top!
wait i don't want to be THIS big
she doesn't like to eat
she looks like a concentration camp victim
she looks like a skeleton
i'll just pretend i didn't hear that
i'll just go back to my drive thru window and pretend to...
fly over candy land and swim in chocolate fizz
and have an igloo of ice cream where i have to shovel out the whipped cream
can we just go back to playing candy land?

Innocence

mommy i don't need makeup because i have rosy cheeks see?
and i can curl my eyelashes like this see?
and i can just lick my lips and they will turn red see?
holding onto the big four post bed
taking it apart to make a microphone
playing in the laundry
a bow and arrow with the clothes hanger
a pioneer
a space cadet
a magical witch
a lover of all things play

Goin through Town

banjo plucklin tunin up a new song
windows down and my hair looks like tinkerbelle
red zooming past the strangers
feelin like a queen on this mountain
climbing so high up the mountain nothing can bring me off this high

Abuse

in white chalky pills smothered around my lips
i look up with puppy eyes in wonder, will you still keep me?
tugging on to the shower curtain wondering if you can hear me
can you?
nothing could take away the potency of whiskey
in our breath
in our hair
in our blood
if you, then you would...
but would i?
if you, then you would...
but do i?
if you, then you would...
stop stop stop saying those words
we'll cry about how we are sorry
but how many times can i say i'm sorry before i become numb?
i've already forgotten. 
i want to run but i am afraid.
exposing my shadow and following yours because it wants company.

My Dreams of the Past Month Into One

A little stage a little lady gaga
she was beautiful
she sang to me. she had the most beautiful voice.
galloped over and said "hiiiiii" and she said, "of course you are."
can we smoke in here?
dancing spinning stomping not giving a shit about anything but
DANCING.
Witch finds me. Sleeping beauty. She kidnapped girls and called them "Emily's"
Magic.
Fluffy little dogs how cute you are with the woman with bob and bangs.
The dungeon of torture.
Locking eyes, we both know it was her. 
Confronted her.
"Come on, Emily's" 
Running fast through the park bugs shaking them off.
Black stone creatures guarding. 
Locked in a swimming pool, the top keeps closing in on us.
Is this what you call teamwork?
Oh, all we had to do was open the door.
It was always unlocked. 
He stabbed me in the throat so I projectile vomited all over the floor.
Feeling of seeping, weeping into the wet floor in a pool of blood and liquid.
Running through doors, he keeps trying to find me.
And somehow no one believe me, that he is following me.
But I keep hiding, and I am safe.
A bag of potato chips and we dig in into the funeral.
But he really isn't dead is he?
I am wrapped in a white cloak that looks like a fishing net.
I don't want to sit in the front.
Everyone walks in, they all stare.
They try to show me pictures but all I can do is mumble and sob. 
It isn't true. This isn't happening. 

How to Talk to Little Girls

How to Talk to Little Girls  Article by Lisa Bloom