‘“Fat” is usually the first insult a girl throws at another girl when she wants to hurt her.
I mean, is ‘fat’ really the worst thing a human being can be? Is ‘fat’ worse than ‘vindictive’, ‘jealous’, ‘shallow’, ‘vain’, ‘boring’ or ‘cruel’? Not to me; but then, you might retort, what do I know about the pressure to be skinny? I’m not in the business of being judged on my looks, what with being a writer and earning my living by using my brain…
I went to the British Book Awards that evening. After the award ceremony I bumped into a woman I hadn’t seen for nearly three years. The first thing she said to me? ‘You’ve lost a lot of weight since the last time I saw you!’
‘Well,’ I said, slightly nonplussed, ‘the last time you saw me I’d just had a baby.’
What I felt like saying was, ‘I’ve produced my third child and my sixth novel since I last saw you. Aren’t either of those things more important, more interesting, than my size?’ But no – my waist looked smaller! Forget the kid and the book: finally, something to celebrate!
I’d rather they were independent, interesting, idealistic, kind, opinionated, original, funny – a thousand things, before ‘thin’. And frankly, I’d rather they didn’t give a gust of stinking chihuahua flatulence whether the woman standing next to them has fleshier knees than they do. Let my girls be Hermiones, rather than Pansy Parkinsons.
“I’ve become so thoroughly convinced, with each and every passing day of my life, that judgement is the most self-destructive indulgence. Judgement, it’s own type of drug, brings about a sort of pleasure and “fills” a part of the heart only to relapse with a greater void than before. The fix that it brings only creates an endless need for a greater one. It’s a clever system, the virus that creates and sustains it’s own needs until the host finally falls into self destruction. Judgement will never allow one to be known, every thought will be ensnared by previous judgements. It’s almost as if every strain of judgement stays in the mind and any action must first pass through a filter of these standing judgements. There is a fear, a form of slavery, that cannot be broken by thought. For this poison is so deeply ingrained in the heart and mind that a deep angst forms that creates a chasm between the true self and any ability to be truly known by others. All that can felt is a growing desire to be known as well as an impending fear of truly being known. This juxtaposition is of the most tantalizing nature. I’ll do the heart justice and refrain from painting such a harrowing scene with words.”
(an excerpt from Abba’s Child, a brilliant book by Brennan Manning)
"The impostor is a liar.
Our false self stubbornly blinds each of us to the light and the truth of our own emptiness and hollowness. We cannot acknowledge the darkness within. On the contrary the impostor proclaims his darkness as the most luminous light, varnishing truth and distorting reality. This brings to mind the apostle John’s words: “If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us” (1 John 1:8)
Craving the approbation withheld in childhood, my false self staggers into each day with an insatiable appetite for affirmation. With my cardboard facade intact, I enter a roomful of people preceded by a muted trumpet: “Here I am,” whereas my true self hidden with Christ in God cries, “Oh, there you are!” The impostor bears a distinct resemblance to alcohol for the alcoholic. He is cunning, baffling, and powerful. He is insidious.”
"Last week, a friend came in to work with a nasty hangover. When I asked her where she had picked up this unfortunate case of the twelve-hour spins, she listed off the various bars and dance floors that had turned her into some sort of manic zombie overnight. She described it as her last hurrah of the summer. Every year, she said, she finds herself bidding a reckless adieu to the season, as though the first stroke of fall would turn her party girl self into a pithy, pitiful pumpkin.
I’ve seen this all over town: friends throwing up their hands and their cares one final time, just to have their thrills and half-hearted regrets buffered by the warm sun at next-day’s brunch. It’s crazy how many people cannot seem to imagine getting someone into bed without an upper lip stained in sweat.
Summer love is so easy: the varying states of undress, bodies brushed with moisture, exhausted from long days in the sun. Anyone can buy into this. It’s fast cars, and thumping beats; and blockbuster movies with fast cars and thumping beats. We’re sold to the idea, obviously, but it’s a cheap deal, panned off by the sentimental equivalent of a used car salesman.
And it’s nothing that lasts; nothing with maturity or wisdom. Take any of the classic summer lovin’ movies and stand them up next to a movie likeWhen Harry Met Sally. Those sugar-sweet plots dissolve in water quicker than the Pepto tabs you need to stomach them. But see a relationship digging roots for itself amidst the golden decay of September, and tell me that’s not sickeningly beautiful. Or new love blossoming inside the rusty cracks of leaf-jammed sidewalks? That’s not called cute or fun, that’s called something to cry about. If the antique words of our most romantic writers found such amorous inspiration in autumn, why are we ever-clinging to the idea of summer love?
It’s tough to warm up to fall, as certain truths seem to highlight themselves even in the darkened glow of the season’s lengthy dusk. Our days eclipsed minute by minute, we note the shedding of our calendar’s anticipatory scribbles and the silence of streets by ten. We have less reasons to go out, spending more nights at home. And If our summer flings have landed far from reach, we spend that time alone. That phrase “Nothing gold can stay” applies just as much to summer as it does to fall, but when everyone is veiled in summer’s haze, we at least have the illusion that something will stick. Fall, however, gives physical proof of impermanence, the viewable curl and snap of leaves as they start to let go. Wouldn’t we like to sometimes forget that this is how it works?
Naturally, we turn toward durability this time of year. We hang up our summer’s best, delete the numbers of our summer’s worst, and think of couplings as we do our scarves and mittens: requirements for the cold months ahead. Maybe it’s not the most romantic idea to think our human wiring commands us to reach like robots towards another warm mass of hardware. But bodies can stick to each other with more than just their own sweat — with the real want for someone who will help us survive the hibernation. Someone who will share our bowls of homemade miso and Netflix subscriptions and pumpkin spice lattes when we get sick from all the artificial flavoring.
And at the absolute least, it’s the want for someone to share our flannel sheets with. They’re the dark chocolate of woven fabrics, after all, offered for a limited time only. Promotional codes do apply.”
I "love" Christians biting Christians. Holy fuck, you're all the same.
I will never, ever back up a professing Christian that believes that “God hates you” and that “God doesn’t just hate what you do, He hates who you are”. I have never experienced anything but the love of God, even in my darkest of times. God is LOVE, and He proved it on the cross. After all: if God really does hate sinners, He wouldn’t send Jesus to us. He wouldn’t make a home among prostitutes, tax collectors, and social outcasts. He wouldn’t reach out to the broken if He loathed them, right? If someone wants to know the character of God, they need not look farther than the person of Jesus.
The repercussions of people listening to something like this and actually BELIEVING it is catastrophic. If you claim to be a Christian and think that you’re following a God that hates what you do and even WHO YOU ARE, you will live a life full of striving, heartache and self-destruction.
The most beautiful, eye-opening revelation I ever had was that God loves me. Every day, this truth transforms my life, softens my heart, and moves my spirit to new heights of joy and freedom.
I’m sorry if my freak-out upset you, or inflamed some previous bad experiences with Christians. I couldn’t put into words why that clip was so wrong, but now I can. Thanks for giving me the forum to better express myself.
“I wanna know what you see when you look in the mirror on a day you’re feeling good. I wanna know what you see in the mirror on a day a day you’re feeling bad. I wanna know the first person who ever taught you your beauty could ever be reflected on a lousy piece of glass.”—Andrea Gibson
“Anne Sexton sometimes seemed like a woman without skin. She felt everything so intensely, had so little capacity to filter out pain that everyday events often seemed unbearable to her. Paradoxically it is also that skinlessness which makes a poet. One must have the gift of language, but even a great gift is useless without the other curse: the eyes that see so sharply they often want to close.”—Erica Jong, about the poet Anne Sexton
“God loves you the same, whether you’re sinning or not. God’s love does not come and go. God is not caught off guard by your sins. God Himself and His love are eternal and unchanging. That overwhelmed and grateful feeling you’re almost letting yourself feel right now will make you a better Christian than all the guilt in the world ever could.”—Unka Glen
I was the One who brought you out of brokenness and depression in the first place. Will you not trust that I will keep carrying you? I care for you. I have everything you need. You won’t be put to shame; I won’t let that happen. Cling to Me. I know it’s going to be hard work - but I will equip you and bring strength to your bones. When you turn to Me, I will sustain you and you will commune with Me in such a way that people can’t help but see Me when they look at you. I won’t put you to shame. The next year will be hard - that’s why you must keep coming to Me, for My burden is light and My yoke is easy. The next few weeks will be difficult, but you must remember that it is I who will fight for you. And the next year is to be My year, not yours. I love you. Remember that I am a rewarder of those who seek Me with all they have.
Trust Me, beloved.
I am Jesus, the One you will come up out of the wilderness leaning on.
You seem upset, from your latest post about being sick and tired, and from the picture you posted afterwards, so I thought this would be a good time to let you know that you have the most gorgeous eyebrows ever. And that I'm jealous of them. That is all. :]
How very kind of you, Anon!
To clarify: I’m not upset at all! I’m actually quite content. I’m a little frustrated at some people in my life, but I know things will get worked out sooner or later. It’s just hard to watch people that you love and see so much potential in, turn away from their gifts, talents and callings because of fear, former wounds, callousness and/or straight-up lies. You just kind of want to shake them. At least, that’s how I feel.
But otherwise all is well. Thanks for the compliment! I’m sure your eyebrows are downright luscious.