Be a Lion

I HATE being judged. For my looks, my size, my voice, the current color of my hair, whether or not I sneezed…all of it.

And I chose to be an actor.

I CHOSE to stand up in front of God and directors who THINK they’re God, and critics, and an audience of 1000 people and say, hey world. Tell me what you think! Am I the best _________(fill in the blank) you’ve ever seen? Do I look good in these costumes? Am I age appropriate? Did I hit that high note better than Ethel Merman? (Well maybe not as loudly!) Ironic, no?

Or is it?

Did I purposely chose this path to get over the fact that I loathe being judged? Did I chose the one career where my weight and my looks are one of the primary reasons I get or do not get a job for a reason?

I mean seriously, I laugh at these hilarious commercial auditions I go to because let’s face it, it’s not always about talent or skill. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I have great respect for commercial and tv actors because it IS a skill and one that I don’t particularly have. And I’m ok with that part of it. I keep trying and rolling my eyes because apparently, I didn’t sniff the product well enough, or didn’t look sad enough because my friend has cancer and I am looking for the perfect I’m sorry card and then I start to reminisce about he time I had cancer and how the right card really cheered me up. And no, I didn’t just make that up. Actual audition.

No, my biggest hurdle, as evidenced from my prior post is being judged on how I look. I (had) an ingenue voice with a hooker’s body. And it was always so freaking hard to hear that I was just too big and needed to lose weight. Over and over again.

And so, I was obsessive. I lost the weight, but I lost my sense of joy. As I mentioned before, I couldn’t go out to eat because everything made me fat. If I missed a workout, I panicked. If there was nothing to eat at my in-laws house, I’d freak out and I’d have this pit in my stomach anxiety. I was a FUN person to be around.

So, why am I telling you this? No, I swear, I am not using it as my own private therapy. Ok, maybe I am. A little. The fact that I am lying on the couch as I write this is total coincidence.

No, I tell you this because I have actually found some peace with my body. Granted, my food obsession has switched from how many calories and fat does it have  to is this a superfood? Raw? Cancer fighting? Processed? Killed humanely? Yeah, I get it, y’all. I’m still obsessed but it’s obsessed for good reason and YOU get to profit from all the obsessing I do!

My friend Ken says, he keeps waiting for more recipes and food talk so he can have some help getting healthy. I’m getting to it, I swear, Ken! I just have a few things to get out there first.

Namely this. We gotta stop the mind games.

Girls, Ladies, Women, Ho bags…you are ALL beautiful in your round, skinny, boobless, cellulite-y, too many cookies glory. You are tall enough, petite enough, young enough, fabulous enough JUST AS YOU ARE. The mind garbage is the first thing you have to clear out before we start working on the God Pod (as the fabulous Kris Carr calls it). Because if you don’t get it out of your head that you are not perfect enough JUST AS YOU ARE, it’s not going to make a bit of difference. You are flawless already. And I for one, think you are beautiful.

Now, I’m a bit of a rebel. The sure way to get me to do something is to tell me I can’t. I think I became an actress partially because my pseudo step-monster told me at 14 that I wasn’t pretty enough to be an actress. I thank you for all the comments I am going to get because of this, but you don’t need to validate me. Ok, if you want to you can. But seriously, that one little comment screwed me up for years. Words have weight. Words can do more damage than cookies. (Particularly my healthy nut balls. Because they will HEAL you, baby!) So my task for you today is to get rid of the negative mind set. It’s garbage day! Put those self loathing thoughts on the curb! Repeat after me:

I am beautiful, just as I am. I am perfect, just as I am.

Feels good, doesn’t it?

I have a friend who looks like Christina Hendricks from Mad Men. Crazy, sexy, voluptuous hot…I mean who doesn’t think she is gorgeous. And when I told my friend I thought she looked like her, she said, what? Fat?

No.

I have another friend who when you ask how she’s doing today replies: Old. Fat. Ugly.

Nope. Not gonna have it anymore.

Shout your fabulousness to the rooftops, Ladies. Because you are God’s creation (no matter what God you believe in) and I am not taking the self loathing from any of you anymore! Including myself. (Hear that, Cory? That means you too!)

And TOMORROW, we are going to start talking nut balls, baby! Just for you Ken.