It’s About A Mindset, Not A Measurement

I completely adore my curves. ADORE. But of course, like so many other women, that has not always been the case.


I was recently reminded that there are women out there in the world of all shapes, all weights, all sizes, and all measurements who are disappointed in their bodies. Women much smaller than me can still want to change clothes with the bedroom lights off. We should never judge a female’s struggle for body acceptance based off of her size. Small girls hurt. Medium girls won’t look closely in a mirror. Big girls do indeed sometimes cry.

I vividly remember a decade ago sitting in my art history courses in college and watching the women of the ages being represented in paint by the masters. Seeing a stream of The Birth of Venus, Venus Anadyomene, Danae with Nursemaid, Three Graces, and on and on and on. Throughout the ages, throughout the periods, artist after artist. It was so different from what I was used to seeing on television, in the movies, in the magazines.

I saw these painted woman and I saw myself in them. Not only did I see my curves reflected, very similar body structure, but I saw them as so breathtaking and so raw and so real, it became more difficult to not see myself in that same light.

I didn’t change my measurements. I only changed my mindset.

I have never seen a gravestone with somebody’s final weight etched into it.

What we remember about people are their morals and values; the impact that you had in their lives. How hard you worked, how hard you loved, how hard you tried.

Our children will look back at photos one day when we are gone and they are grown and notice the light in our eyes; the smile on our faces. The happiness we were exuding that day.

Not the double chin or the arms that could be more toned.

We as woman can be so caring and accepting and non-judgmental of other woman but still beat ourselves up. We still hide our bodies and lower our head and turn off our lights.

It is time for a mindset switch instead of a measurement adjustment. No more confidence we “fake til we make.”


Make the decision to hold your chin up and say, “I am more than a size on a belt or number on a scale. I am an amazing woman for a million different reasons and none of them have anything to do with the way I look. I am smart and loving and a positive contribution to society and my family. I will love myself for who I am at this moment in time. I will let go of the self-loathing and instead of worrying about wearing spanx I will only worry about whether I am wearing a smile. I am real and I am raw and I am breathtaking. I am a work in progress, and I celebrate that.”

That, ladies, is how you will be remembered. By being that woman. Not as the insert-whatever-you-picture-your-ideal-body-image-is woman.

Time to encourage the realness and rawness of the woman you are and the women you surround yourself with.

Spend some time checking out these two great sites:

My Body Gallery; What Real Women Look Like A website where you can type in your real dimensions and view other women of the same measurements.

The Shape of a Mother A website of real mothers and their bodies after pregnancy and childbirth.

Start to see that you judge yourself a thousand times more harshly than necessary, and then start to see how all of this doesn’t matter anyway.

It’s not about the measurements.

It never will be.

Kind Regards, Mrs. Darling

I’ll Never Be Your “New” Again

It’s a hard realization. A stone cold fact that leaves me with a lump of fear at the base of my throat.

I’ll never be Your “new” again.

That freshness that exists when you meet somebody and their whole world is undiscovered. What jokes of yours will they laugh at hardest? What stories of life do they have to share in the dark of night, setting your soul soaring with the fascination of a strange wonderful creature that you hadn’t even known to exist?

What will they taste like?


The flat stomach that’s never born the weight of child. The discovering of siblings and unique favorites and unidentified quirks. New music. New food.

New butterflies.

New orgasms.

No matter how much I love You, love myself, love us…

…I feel old.

I told You of these fears today and Your words were the salve I needed.

I may never be Your “new” again. You know my world better than I even do sometimes. You’ve seen me at my very worst: sobbing and snotting, lying… hiding, covered in sweat, covered in vomit. Withdrawing from addiction. Withdrawing from You.

It’s an inevitable occurrence; a natural set of relationship occurrence. It can never be unseen. It can never be erased.

No matter how hard you try, if you make a partnership with another, the histories become all told and the present becomes a parallel. “Newness” cannot exist with permanence.

But Your words made me realize that as we stand at the wake of our newness, it isn’t about a massive loss but instead a million little gains.

In the death of our newness, Your jokes have become our jokes- shared, told by us both, each of us telling the part we reveal best. We have inside jokes, words and phrases and stories that only the other gets, a secret language that nobody else can even try to learn because the secret is shared experience.

You read the tilt of my chin; I have Your body memorized by touch. We come together in the dark of the night to make major decisions for our family, to absorb the wonder of silence that exists when two people can be together and just be, to fuck with the freedom of knowing somebody else’s pleasure like a memorized map.

I know what You’ll taste like, and it’s so fucking delicious. I can’t wait to taste it, You, again.

And I know that I will because out with the new and in with the old ushers in a dependability and security that centers me, cements me, carries me throughout the day.

I’ve made a life with You, made actual human life with You, studied You like a science, listened to Your secrets, encouraged Your evolution, and You’ve done the same for me.

The butterflies have flown but in their place is the burning of a fire that has been roaring for years, now smoldering hot and long withstanding.

Now You only have to whisper “those words” in my ear and our connection, our energy, our training brings forth my undoing.

I’ve never felt older.

I’ve never felt happier.

I told You of these fears today and Your words were the salve I needed.
‘You may never be My “new” again. But you will always be My “home.”‘

I’ll do my very best to remember when the doubt creeps in that there is absolutely

no place like home.

Kind Regards,
Mrs. Darling