“’For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord.  ‘Plans to proper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.’” – Jeremiah 29:11

When the end of the year comes I absolutely love it.  I love, love, love Christmas.  The Nutcracker Suite is on repeat on my iPod, I light up my Christmas tree every night (it’s been up since Thanksgiving) and my dining room table suddenly looks like Santa’s workshop has taken over.  It really is the most wonderful time of the year. 

But at the end of the year I always get a bit introspective as well.  Remember last year when I went all “have I been starter wifed?” on ya’ll?  Right, so this year, it’s the same thing.  A little time in my head before I head to DC for New Years and party it up in style.  Last year, I declared I’d be loving on myself more in 2009.  And, I think I did.  I really did just try to work on me, encourage myself and get through the tough times – on my own strength and power.  There are even situations that even my closest friends don’t know about (I’ll be opening up about those more in the future – on the blog and in life – but suffice it to say that there were some very, very deep things that nobody but me and the people involved know about).  It’s not that I haven’t wanted to share those things – I’ve just become much, much more guarded in who I share what information with.  And, actually, it was the evaluation of who I tell what to and when that led me to this blog post.

About what I just can’t do anymore.  On the eve of 2010 (which – I’ve declared as my year) there are things that I’m no longer going to take.  Certain behaviors.  Certain attitudes.  I’m simply not dealing with them anymore.  I’m 26 (almost 27 – and I realize declaring that makes me sound 12, almost 13) and quite frankly I don’t have to deal with them anymore.  As the world famous poem “Invictus” says, “I am the master of my fate” and “the captain of my soul.”  So I’m taking responsibility for that.  I’m taking responsibility for my feelings, how I react to situations, how I respond to people and the behaviors that will and won’t be tolerated.  And, well, since I’m captain you’ll have to follow the rules or find a new ship.

Sorry.  That’s how I feel about 2010.  I’m goin’ in (“like a Lil Wayne and Drake song”).

So what exactly does it mean for you?  Truthfully, probably nothing.  This is more about me (I know, incredibly selfish at the most unselfish time of year).  Sometimes I have to put in writing what I’m going to do (or not do) in order to make it happen.  You guys are just here to police me. To make the behavior stick.  And, on the odd chance that you do something that I’m no longer tolerating – it doesn’t matter.  I’m not going to ask you to change your behavior or stop doing what you do.  I’m just no longer going to entertain it.  Do with the information what you will.

I. Just. Can’t . . .

1. Deal with selfish friends.  I’m over it.  It’s not cute.  It’s not entertaining.  It’s annoying and stressful.  It was annoying when you were a kid, but you dealt with it.  Mostly because the selfishness was minor – like, I’ll play with my best Barbie and you play with the second best Barbie.  But we’re grown-ups now.  I can buy my own damn Barbies.  So gone are the days when you get to put me in awkward, stressful, unreasonable situations and get away with it.  You don’t get to inconvenience me because it’s convenient for you.  It’s not happening.  Besides, that’s not a friendship anyway.  And when you do it, I’m calling you on it.  And it won’t be nice.  Because, with people like you, nice doesn’t work.  Nice gets laughed off.  And then the same thing happens again.  So maybe, if I call you on your sh*t you’ll stop doing it.  Or, you’ll stop calling me.  Either way – I win.
2. Take the bullsh*t.  This is a very special message.  Meant mainly for one (or two) people in particular.  I can’t take the big game that you talk.  Because, well, it’s all talk.  And more talk.  You talk a lot.  But you don’t back it up.  You might ask others to back it up.  But you can’t back it up.    And I’m tired of it.  So I’m not taking it anymore.  And I’m no longer covering for you.  Good luck with that.
3. Work seven days a week.  I need a break.  I need time off.  Time to recuperate and regroup.  This one is my own fault.  I try to convenience the people I work for to the point that it inconveniences me.  So, I’m not doing it.  I won’t fully be on a new schedule until the summer.  But, come June there will be a change in schedule.  And it will be permanent.  I’m tired.  I’ve earned a break.  And I won’t be made to feel bad for taking it. 
4. Get any more dating advice from people who don’t date and get love advice from people who don’t love. Harsh – I know.  But think about it – it’s like getting parenting advice from me!  I don’t know jack about raising kids.  That is a whole new level of responsibility that I have no knowledge of.  It’s a harsh reality, but it’s true.  If you aren’t dating (casually, seriously, at all) then how are you going to help me date?  If you aren’t actively meeting people (through going out, speed dating, online, whatever) how, exactly can you help?  I don’t mean for this to sound harsh (but it’s going to) – but I’m just going to be much, much more selective in who I solicit dating and love advice from.  I’m selective about who I solicit religious guidance from and shoe advice, so my dating life really should be no different.  All you coupled up and actively dating buddies of mine – expect for me to pick your brain quite a bit more.  Everyone else, please, don’t be offended if I don’t come to you for dating advice anymore.  It’s not personal.  It’s a business decision.   
5. Leave things on a bad note.  I know that this sounded like a rant disguised as a blog post.  But it’s really not.  I’m just cleaning out my closet.  As I get older and smarter and more experienced I am just realizing that in order to live the kind of life that I want to live, I can’t have all of this stuff clouding me.  I truly, truly believe that what I think about I bring about.  And I’m trying to bring positivity, love, prosperity and peace into my life.  And, I need to surround myself with like-minded individuals (in that sense – although ya’ll know I’m happy to get a little debate going!).  Everybody is not meant to journey with me through my life.  And one way or another, I’ve got to let the people go who aren’t not meant to come with me towards my destiny. 

I just can’t forget that I’m fearfully and wonderfully made . . .

You know, I’ve got Jeremiah 29:11 tattooed on my back.  “’For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord.  ‘Plans to proper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.’”  It’s time I started acting like it.

Signed,
Country Club Barbie

“This is my winter song / December never felt so long / ‘Cause you’re not where you belong / Inside my arms.” – Sara Bareilles & Ingrid Michaelson, “Winter Song”

There’s really only one time of year when I find myself really and truly hating Voldy.

Winter. 

Well, winter and when I find myself on a particularly bad date.  But really just the winter.  November and December specifically.  It still stings.  Eighteen and a half months later I thought it wouldn’t sting.  And then November 21 hits and it stings with a freshness that I’ve only ever felt the day we officially broke up.  And so I find myself sitting home, after giving yet another guy one chance too many, listening to “Winter Song,” wishing that I could concentrate on any part of the song other than where she reiterates just how long December feels or where she keeps asking me if love is alive.  By all my calculations, no, it’s not.  And no, I don’t really believe that, I’m just having a moment.  I can’t help but get a bit dark and twisty listening to this song.

I can’t help but feel a bit dark and twisty because, well the song just hits a little close to home.  It always has; and not because the first time I heard it was during an especially sad scene during Grey’s Anatomy.  It’s just one of those songs that moves you, gets you thinking and cuts your heart into a million pieces all at the same time.  Good music does that to you. 

And winter is lonely.  And cold.  And December really is a long month.  Don’t get me wrong, I love, love, love the holidays (don’t worry you’ll be getting your requisite holiday post soon).  But, for some reason, December always feels much longer than say, March.  And, it feels just a tad longer when you’re wandering through the month by yourself wondering “is love alive?”  So, really it’s not that far of a stretch for you to be curled up in your most comfy sweats, fleece socks, and wrapped in a blanket listening to “Winter Song” on repeat, hating Voldy and pouring out your feelings on your blog.  At least it’s not a stretch for me. 

So here we are kids.  Hating Voldy and wondering if love is alive.  Side note: Has life really become this?   

And, isn’t like a songwriter to write something to make you think?  Pretty much as soon as I’d settled into my bitter, moody self I caught a different part of the song.  The part where she says “They say that things cannot grow and need the winter snow . . . I still believe in summer days / the seasons always change and life will find a way.” 

I want to feel bitter – but it’s hard to when she puts a positive spin on a dark and twisty song.  I want to feel more bitter, but the moment has passed.

(Which, by the way sucks – when you totally switch directions mid-post – it’s the worst!)  But, well, I’m listening to the song and hearing a different message.  Yes, she’s clearly heart-broken and devastated and whatever other feelings Voldy’s counterparts leave us girls feeling when they smash our little Barbie hearts.  But, I’m hearing something different.  After all, it’s pretty true that things can’t grow without the winter season.

So, maybe, winter feels extraordinarily long because I’ve got some extraordinary growing to do.  Maybe, right now, it’s just a winter season I’m experiencing.  Which means that eventually it’ll be over.  It’s a possibility, because, well, seasons change.  There’s a time to laugh.  A time to cry.  The Beatles even said so – and if they said it then it must be true. ** So, maybe this is just my winter season – my winter song so to speak.  And, maybe for a little while longer I’ll be feeling this December. 

But I do believe in summer days.  And that seasons will change and that life (and I) will find our way.  So, with one final listen to the song – I’m off to start finding my way. 

And maybe Nemo.

So dear readers, what do you think?  Is this just a “winter season?”  Do you guys feel this way during the winter?  How’d you get past it?  You know the drill.

Signed,
Believing in Summer Days Barbie

** So apparently The Beatles did not sing the song, The Byrds did.  However, I think that saying The Beatles said it gives way more credibility because, well, they’re The Beatles.  So, wrong as it may be, my assertion still stands.  If The Beatles said it, it has to be true!  And thanks to the “little byrdie” who pointed it out to me

So I’ve been dating quite a bit over the last year and a half.  In my Nine in ’09 quest to date at least 12 different guys I’m two guys away from reaching my goal.  That’s not bad considering that I took two self-imposed dating hiatus’ and that a few guys made it past my three date mark.  All in all, I’d say that my experiment in mating has been mildly successful.  And only mildly because, well, I haven’t found a mate

What I have found are a bunch of goons, bafoons and dopes who think they are smooth and sexy with swagger on a hundred thousand trillion.  While they may think that, I beg to differ.  In fact, I’m not sure their swag registers on the swag-o-meter at all.  And, although their swag left much to be desired, the sound bites that I heard were entertaining and well worth the bad dates, boring phone conversations and marriage proposals I endured. 

Fellas, take heed of what I’m about to share with you.  If you’ve ever used any of the following lines on a girl, well, I hate to break it to you but you aren’t getting any.  And by “any” I mean anything.  No second date, no sex in the champagne room and certainly no wifey!  Sorry, hate to break it to you!

WARNING: Reading the following may lower your IQ several points and you may feel dumber for having read them.  Imagine how dumb I feel after having listened to them.

Stoopid Boy: Do you think I’m sexy? You like what you see? I’m sexy. You like what you see don’t you.
CCB: No I don’t.
Stoopid Boy: Close your eyes, then tell me what you think.

Setting: One late November afternoon . . .
Mr. Sunday: Well, it’ll be tougher to hang out.  I have a girl now.
CCB: :::choking::: What? Really? For how long?
Mr. Sunday: Since September.
CCB: Oh, well we can’t hook up anymore.  I’m not into being a mistress.  That’s not my M.O.
Mr. Sunday: Why not?  You don’t live in the city. You live out of town.  So it doesn’t count.
CCB: I live 20 minutes away.

Stoopider Boy: You wear that to work?  You get dressed up for work?  I never dated a girl who got dressed up for work.  Wow.

Stoopidest Boy: How old are you?
CCB: 26.
Stoopidest Boy: Do you have kids?
CCB: No.
Stoopidest Boy: Neither do I.  Marry me.

Stoopid Boy (yes, the same one): I’m different from any guy you’ve ever dated.
CCB: How?
Stoopid Boy: I’m a thug.
CCB: And that makes you different because????
Stoopid Boy: I went to college.
CCB: Real thugs don’t go to college.
Stoopid Boy: I know.  But you did, so I thought it sounded good.

So, my friends, did you feel your IQ drop?  Can you believe these things were actually said to me?  What are some of the worst lines you’ve ever heard.  Can’t wait to hear!

Signed,
Looks Like I Broke it to Ya Barbie

. . . for a New York accent. I let him un-lose my phone number. And he’s taking me to dinner to apologize.

. . . I’m such a sucker . . .

“Now it’s gone to deep/You wake me in my sleep/My dreams become nightmares/’Cause you’re ringing in my ears” – No Doubt, “Spiderwebs”

Jay-Z once said that 30 is the new 20 (maybe in not such proper English, but he said it!).  Lately, I’ve been feeling like 28 is the new 12.  Or 10. 

Childish behavior is suddenly all the rage.  And not that cute sh*t either.  Childish behavior as in full out temper tantrums.  Yes.  Grown men are throwing temper tantrums.  Side note: Diddy, please bring back the “No Bitchassness” t-shirts.  Some men seem to have forgotten there’s a ban.  And I’m not talking little temper tantrums.  I’m talking whining, yelling, screaming, pretty sure they’re stomping around temper tantrums.  Straight “terrible twos” style. 

I am unmoved.

I’ve never been moved by whining and the such.  In fact, a temper tantrum is a surefire way to get me to do exactly the opposite of whatever it is you want me to do so badly.  It may be because I’m the oldest child.  Or because my parents are unmoved by such shenanigans.  Irregardless (yeah, I said it) it doesn’t move me.  It doesn’t touch my soul or tug on my heart strings.  It just annoys me.  Point blank.  Period.  Dot.

Someone should give these men out here the memo. 

Now, we all know that I’m a sucker for certain characteristics in a man.  I’m a sucker for men of a certain fraternity.  Broad shoulders.  Cocky attitudes.  And, New York accents.  A particular New Yorker has been keeping my attention lately.  Another side note: No, not THAT New Yorker if anybody reading this knows who I’m talking about.  So anyway, this New Yorker (who doesn’t get a nickname because, well, he throws tantrums) has an attitude in the WORST way – which of course means I love it!  Really straight-forward, to the point, cocky and sexy all rolled into one.  I enjoy hanging out with him.  But, he doesn’t take it very well when I have other plans.  And, well, lately, I’ve had plans.  Lots of them.  I’m making a more conscious effort to do the things that I want to do.  And to NOT do the things that I don’t want to do.  And really, that’s the more important thing here. 

So, unfortunately for him – I have plans.  And when I didn’t have plans I didn’t want new ones.  So this past weekend when he asked if I wanted to get together on Sunday I said “no.”  He asked “why not?”  I said, “because I don’t feel like it.”  Which I didn’t.  I wanted to stay in and mind my own damn business.  There is no rule that says I have to be around people twenty-four hours a day seven days a week.  And if there were a rule that said that it’d be stupid.  Quite frankly, I enjoy my solitude. 

He, on the other hand, does not enjoy my solitude.  After hanging up on me (which, what 28 year old does that?  Really?).  He proceeded to text me.  I ignored them.  Then he called me . . . like five times in a row.  Um what?  The last time he left a voicemail with enough profanity to make the drunkest of sailors blush. 

How old are you again?  What year is it?  Has this approach been effective in the past?  Who exactly did you think you were talking to?  Is stoopid tattooed on my forehead? 

Do I look moved to you?  Oh right, you can’t see me.  Well, I’m unmoved by your temper tantrum.  And so I told him.  That is was ineffective, childish, and the ultimate turn off.  I then told him that, quite frankly, if this is the approach he takes when he doesn’t get his way then I am not interested in seeing him anymore.

Then I told him to lose my phone number.

Second guy this week.

So, what do you guys think?  Am I the only one who is encountering temper tantrums?  What’s up with that?  And why do grown ass men think they’ll work?  You know the drill . . .

Signed,
I’m Moved By A Lot of Things But Not That Barbie

“Everyone thinks I’ll know what to say to her. I don’t know what to say to her. Dark and twisty Meredith. I’m not dark and twisty. And if I am, it’s because I live my life under a banner of avoidance. I avoid. I’m an avoider.” – Meredith Grey, “Grey’s Anatomy”

One thing (among the many) that I appreciate about my conversations with Mini Me is that it is always open, honest and direct communication between us.  Rarely (if ever, actually) have I ever felt like she was beating around the bush, hemming and hawing or not saying what it is she really wants to say.  I can’t speak to every aspect of her life, but in all my experiences I’ve found it to be this way.  Which is why I value her opinion so much.  I know I’m going to get the truth; not some version of it.  I do have friends who consistently deliver some version of the truth to me, and when I need that I go to them.  But when I want cold, hard facts (and I mean that in the nicest, most loving way possible) and honest feedback I’ve found myself, more than once, going to Mini Me first before anyone else. 

In fact, I was right there earlier today when I felt myself becoming increasingly frustrated with the dark and twisty nature of a friend.  I’m not frustrated with the dark and twistiness of it all (hey, I get that) – mostly I’m frustrated because I’m feeling the exact opposite of dark and twisty (light and straight?).  And the fact that I feel neither dark nor twisty makes me feel like my friend is not interested in being my friend when I’m not commiserating in the dark and twistiness of it all.  Follow me?

Of course, Mini Me got a long soliloquy about it all – but here’s the main point.  I’m not feeling dark and twisty and my friend is.  And I’m feeling like a bad friend for not feeling dark and twisty.  And, I’m probably feeling bad because the last time I wasn’t dark and twisty I was told I was a bad friend.  But, as Mini Me pointed out in her response to me, “Sometimes we’re left alone with our thoughts/feelings/difficulties so that we can figure ourselves out . . . [and] it’s ok for [people] to voice when [they’re] feeling crappy but it’s really not ok to put it on anyone else to lift [them] up.”

And that’s so true, isn’t it?  At a certain point it’s not fair for us to depend on our friends to pick us up out of our dark and twisty places.  It’s fair to ask them to be there for us and to reach out to them if we need help.  But at the end of the day, only we can change how we feel about a situation.  At the end of the day it falls on us to either “fall apart or rise to the challenge of pulling [ourselves] out of this sh*t storm.”  After all, my friends didn’t get me over Voldy.  I got me over Voldy.  They helped and they were there in moments of pain or weakness or especially trying days.  But, it was my conscious effort to get over it, move past it and learn from the experience that got me to where I am.  It was my choice to wake up each morning and put one foot in front of the other.  My choice to stop crying and start living.  To get better and not bitter.  They were there, but it was me that did it. 

I guess that’s what I wish for my dark twisty friend.  That this bout of dark and twistiness will bring about a change that has not come in all the other bouts of dark and twistiness.  That there will be some sort of realization that is reached that wasn’t there six weeks, six months or six years ago.  I just want them to know that they’re better than this.

And, while I won’t indulge the dark and twistiness, I will be there whenever they’re ready to emerge on a path to something better.

Signed,
I’m Just Not There Barbie

“Let me hear you say ahhh” – Trey Songz, “Say Ahhh”

Just finished a 24/7 project that has been the bane of my existence for the past two weeks . . .

This is me exhaling.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

. . . I shouldn’t have left you . . .

But Barbie’s back – and she’s coming with a vengence!!!!!!

“Yeah, it does.  It heals.  It just heals kind of funny.  You know, you more or less walk . . . with a limp.” – “The Upside of Anger” [on a broken heart]

Side note: Sorry I haven’t been blogging.  I don’t like not blogging.  But, life has just gotten a tad bit crucial lately.  And, I think I caught SARS from one of my piano students.  But Barbie is back (until I’m gone again).

So, the other night D-Magic reprimanded me for ranting a lot on my blog lately.  Well, it wasn’t quite a reprimand; just an observation that still feels like a reprimand because the person is right. I haven’t been meaning to rant a lot.  They’ve just kind of been coming out, like word vomit.  And, I was all prepared to go on another rant about how I want a boyfriend (because, well the weather is cold and I’m sick and I want someone to snuggle me and bring me soup and sh*t). And it was going to be a good rant.  Because I’m wonderful and fabulous and all these things, but I still keep finding losers or crazies.  And, I’m too scared to say anything to the guys who could be really good for me.

But then D-Magic goes all “gee, all of your posts have been rants lately” on me and so now, I can’t rant. Because, then I’ll be seen as the girl who rants and probably is fabulous and deserves a fabulous man except she rants a lot.  Which leads me to where I am today.  The upside of anger.  Except, I’m not really angry.  And, in our case, anger means single (I really just like the movie and wanted to use the title).  And really, there is an upside to being single (and sometimes anger too).

So anyway, that was a really roundabout way of getting to the upside of being single. Because, as I think about all my cuddleless nights (which, really, thanks to Mr. Sunday aren’t quite so cuddleless) and my sick days (seriously, bring me some soup!) and how I want someone to go see Christmas lights with and have Thanksgiving with and make babies with in the far, far, far future (because my brother is making enough babies for all of us these days!) I realize that there really is an upside to being single.

If I really wanted to be taken that  badly I could.  After all, anybody can be married if they lower their standards enough.  But you know me, I’m a high standards kind of girl, so I’ve got to find the upside of being single.  So, in the spirit of not ranting and working on being content in my singleness (cuddles or no cuddles) I present the “Upside of Being Single!”

• Nobody cares if I watch “Project Runway” marathons instead of Sunday Football.  Also, nobody gets mad because I root for the team with the cutest players.
• When (and please pray it’s a when) I get a bonus I can make a guilt-free trip to the Coach store to buy myself a little treat for being such a hard worker.
• One less birthday I have to remember.
• I can flirt notoriously with whomever I want and NEVER feel guilty about it.
• If I want to wear my head scarf to the store, nobody looks at me funny.
• It doesn’t matter if I haven’t had a pedicure since June – who’s looking at my feet?
• There’s nobody around to be offended by morning breath.
• I know how to change a light bulb, reset the TV, power wash my windows and change the air filter in my house.  However, my brother still takes my trash out.
• I can take as long I want to get ready – this usually involves changing 4 times and doing my hair twice.
• There is a self-assurance and a self-confidence that I’ve grown in myself that no man can add to or take away.  That can only be learned through single-dom.

So – what are the upsides of being single in your opinion?  And, don’t come here with the upside of being coupled up. When I’m coupled up, I’ll post about it.  But right now, we don’t want none!

Signed,
All Positive and Sh*t Barbie

“B*&ch I’m me, I’m me, I’m me, I’m me. Baby I’m me, so who you? You’re not me, you’re not me. And I know that ain’t fair, but I don’t care.” – Weezy F. Baby, “I’m Me”

So, I wasn’t planning on posting today.  Calling my life hectic these days is the understatement of the century. And, there are other things that I should be doing right now.  But, I have to take a minute.

Lately, I’ve been surrounded by people who are cuh-razy body conscious. Now – I’m body conscious – there are things I need to work on.  And I go to the gym because it makes me feel good, I actually enjoy working out (usually) and it helps me lose and/or maintain my weight loss.  But, make no mistake about it, I know I’m thick.  And I’m OK with that.  Like actually, really OK with it [Insert inside joke here D-Magic].

In fact, flaws and all, I think pretty highly of myself.  I am well aware of the fabulosity that makes me who I am. And, I’m pretty sure at least somebody out there things I’m fabulous because I have been told that I’m pretty, beautiful and have great legs (just last Thursday!).  Side note: I work my legs out really hard at the gym.  I’m proud of the fact that I can leg press more than a lot of guys. OK, we’re back.  Anyway, the fact of the matter is that I think I’m pretty darn cute.

But lately, I feel like I’ve been surrounded by people who don’t think quite so much of themselves.  And, it’s annoying. Not because I am conceited or anything (at least, I try really, really hard not to be).  But, it’s still annoying.  First, you are cute/adorable/smart/slim or whatever other compliment you are fishing for.  I’m only going to tell you once.  It’s not my job to convince you that you are fabulous. I have to remind myself everyday how wonderful I am.  It’s like in Christianity – at a certain point you have to learn how to encourage yourself/pray for yourself/speak things into your life.  You have to mature.  You can’t always rely on everyone else’s prayer/encouragement to get you through a trial/tribulation/tough time.  The same principle applies.  At a certain point you have to accept that you are what you are and tell yourself how great all of that is.

I don’t mean that you shouldn’t change or improve.  Not at all.  I try really hard to do that.  But it has to be for the right reason.  And let’s face it, to find a boyfriend, make your man happy, pick up chicks, or buy designer clothes ain’t it. Now I don’t know what the right reason for you is.  But, I’m pretty sure that if you’re doing it to find somebody else, keep somebody else or fit into some really expensive clothing that you’ll still be unhappy once you’ve done those things.

At what point to we grow up and accept ourselves, flaws and all? Nobody is perfect – so when do we start accepting that we aren’t perfect and love ourselves just the way we are?  So what that my tooth is a little crooked?  It doesn’t stop every guy I’ve ever dated from telling me that my smile is one of my best (and usually their favorite) feature.  So why spend the time harping on my crooked tooth?  That is energy that can be directed elsewhere in a much more positive manner. What is it that you’re wasting your time harping on?

I don’t mean to rant but I’m just sayin . . . I spend a lot of time working on me, making sure I’m happy and content and comfortable in my own skin.  And frankly, I’m a little tired of listening to others gripe because they aren’t comfortable in their own skin. I’m not ranting, just sayin . . . (OK, I am ranting).

So do us all a favor and stop focusing on the flaws. Stop complaining because you hate your curly hair.  Focus on how great your eyes are, how wide and welcoming your smile is and how cute your butt is.  If you worked and worked and worked and can’t get rid of that little tummy pooch, figure out how to hide it (try a wide belt cinched at your natural waist). And, if you don’t like the way you look – get up and do something about it.  I’m looking for a jogging partner.  And, if you are doing something about it then STOP WHINING! The change will come eventually.  If you’re doing what you’re supposed to do, it’ll come.

I’m comfortable in my own skin so please stop making me uncomfortable around yours.

Signed,
There are Bigger Fish to Fry Barbie