July 23, 2012

My Daughters, With No Body Issues (Yet)

I have many issues, not the least of which is a terrible body image, stemming from the terrible image made by my body.

Part of it is the fact that I like salads, provided they can easily mistaken for bacon cheeseburgers or nacho platters.  When given the choice of chicken or fish, I almost always choose cheesecake.

Another part of it is the fact that Robin Williams and I are descended from the same gorilla.  For both of us, when we take our shirts off, no one can tell.

I believe that people can be beautiful regardless of how big or small they all.  A fit woman can be a horrible person and that will make her ugly, while an obese woman can carry herself well, be confident and happy, and be the most beautiful person in the world.  Part of this is knowing what you should and should not wear for your body type.

As a direct result of the information I have relayed here, I don't take my shirt off.  Ever.  I am usually tempted to shower with it on!

Nine months out of the year, this works out well for me.  I had to give up my membership to the Polar Bear Club but I didn't mind that too much.

During the summer, however, I live, skirting the razor edge of my psyche between my desire to cool myself in the many bodies of water that spring up like wild mushrooms, and my desire not to spend the night in prison for inflicting my pasty, fur covered torso on legions of innocent children.

Protip: Do not do a Google image search for "pale hairy man" while at work.
This is something I REALLY need to get over so that I can go swimming with my girls.  I want to teach them to swim and to love the water.  So far, they are doing well but Sara can only hold both of them in the pool for so long.

Perhaps, I will continue to invest in kiddie pools...

Although, maybe not!  Maybe I can just fill up the cooler with water...

In any event, it got me thinking about how much we miss out on with our children, and how much they miss, as a result of the crazy issues (mental, physical, dietary, religious, etc.) of the parents.

Oh well.  Back to my regularly scheduled cringing at the messes made by my own kids.

Sweet Jesus!  That had better be chocolate!



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