Fuck it. I Like Myself Just the Way I Am, and Everyone Else Can Just Go Suck Rotten Hippo Balls

Because you know, "donkey balls" has SO been done already.

I kind of had a MAJOR realization yesterday while I was home waiting on the delivery of the wonderful, glorious massage chair (of which RAPTUROUS prose will soon certainly come, but I am still too wrapped in the disbelief that such a wondrous thing landed in my house that I have yet to believe that I will come home and it will still be there). I was sitting on my couch, thumbing through my new Glamour that came, watching Dr. 90210 (for the FIRST and LAST time, I will add) on E!, and a line from Glamour hit.

"We don't compare ourselves to Albert Einstein when we think about how smart we are, so why do we compare ourselves to Giselle Bündchen when we look in the mirror?"

WHAM. Lightning bolt through the brain kind of WHAM.
Not the I-can't-believe-I-never-thought-George-Michael-was-gay-when-I-was-young kind of Wham.
I also refused to believe Nick Rhodes was gay, and he's still sticking to that story, so maybe I was right.
And we won't even discuss that in their "real bodies" issue they still only had one or two women in there who looked like they knew the joys of macaroni and cheese. It's a start, I guess.

This went through my head while I was watching a woman on Dr. 90210 have her vagina redone by laser by a plastic surgeon so it could look like "before I had children." This went along with her butt lift and boob job. So she could "feel better about herself." And the surgeon's going on about how he's really a feminist, because he's helping women take care of a problem that's been ignored and if men had that problem it would have been addressed ages ago.
Gloria Steinem would have been SO proud, I'm sure.
I just wanted to hurl something at the TV.

Because, short of Britney Spears, that's not the first thing about a woman people usually see. But now women will spend thousands to change something that looks just the way nature intended, and surgeons will drive Bentleys because of it.
And NO ONE is getting near my hoo-hoo with a LASER. Didn't they see Real Genius? Lasers can be DANGEROUS. And make a lot of popcorn. Not that, you know, popcorn would emerge from anyone's hoo-hoo or anything... Well, maybe Lindsay Lohan's or Paris Hilton's, but I imagine it wouldn't be the good "movie butter" kind.

Ladies, worrying about your looks this much is CRAZY.
And having someone cut up your body just for looks is ANOTHER MUCH BIGGER BAG OF CRAZY.

And it's not just looks, is it? We constantly compare ourselves to shit we can't possibly meet. And then get all depressed about it when we fail. We should, we should, we should because she does this and she does that and she has this and she has that... all the damn day long.
And we never once stop to think that the reason these people we compare ourselves to are famous is because they are THE EXCEPTIONS.

Not for me. Not anymore.

This is my personal list. The ones you use might be different, but you get the point.

When I look in the mirror, I will not think of Elle MacPherson.
When I cook dinner or rearrange the living room, I will not think of Martha Stewart.
When I try to exercise, I will not think of Linda Hamilton or Angela Bassett.
When I play my soccer games, I will not think of my husband. Or the college girls who play in the other league. Or Mia Hamm.
When I get dressed in the morning, I will not think of Sex and the City and feel guilty for jeans and a t-shirt.
When I ride my horses, I will not think of any of the trainers I have to compete against.
When I look around my house, I will not think of my friends with their cute, clean houses that they get to work on every day because they are actually HOME. And single.

Make your own list if you like. You can even do it in the comments, which would make for interesting reading.
Try it. It's very freeing.