Up for Another Sermon?
"Listen to Mustn'ts, child, listen to the Don'ts.
Listen to the Shouldn'ts, the Impossibles, the Won'ts.
Listen to the Never Haves, then listen close to me.
Anything can happen, child, Anything can be."
-Shel Silverstein
I just watched (check it out; I actually watched TV!!) an earlier episode of "Mo' Nique's FAT Chance". I couldn't watch the "eliminations", because I didn't want to see any of those ladies "eliminated". It just didn't seem right, but it is the way of things.
I tell you, this show is killer to an empath; all that pain, all the shame, all the bullshit these gals have had put up with, and representing what we, too, have had, and still have, to endure.
And how they shone! But, to one who knows, the smiles were forced and nervous, the eyes held just the shimmer of a child who was waiting for the blow, the hiss from the audience, the nasty comment, because this is what they've dealt with; this is what they've come to expect for daring to be proud and going against "public standard"; even the most wonderful things get ruined in the end because we've learned to accept it. And outsiders wonder why we go to extremes, either crying in defeat, hiding at home, becoming hermits, or, in defiance, turning hard and cold...bitches, if we must be labeled (personally, I'll take that label, and make you scared shitless that you tangled with me).
These beautiful girls held back in self defense, their eyes asking, "when are you going to hurt me?', waiting for the jeers.
...and they never came.
One thing that really hit me where I live was when they challenged the girls to "do something they told you you couldn't". Ride a horse. But those lasses got up there and rode. And watching these girls decked out in the gear reminded me that this is how I dress all the time. Hell, my name is "Mare" (christ, look at the layout!)...and I hear the shit about horses, riding, and such, and had to come up with the pat comeback: "See that big boy? I like my horses like I like my men: strong, beautiful, and able to take me on." No wimps (I only marry those-lol). If that ain't you, step off and get outta my way, Jack (or Jill, for that matter *wink*).
We have a long way to go to melt the Barbies, but it will happen because, after all, plastic can't take heat. And we pack plenty of that; it's what happens when you rub thighs together like we do-and I mean that in the sexiest, most defiant way possible. Strike a match? Oh, Hell, no, baby; come over here!
A long, hard way, but if anyone can pull it off, we can.
Keep the faith, Sisters.
(cross-posted to beautifulcurves.)