I think I’ve rewritten this blog post three different times.
I can’t seem to find the words today. But what I like about blog writing is what I like about living.
There’s always a chance to start over.
From minute to minute, you are a changing person with differing views as you take in new information. It’s okay if you change with the flow too.
Don’t hold yourself back and don’t hold yourself in. Rewrite your story as many times as you like until it’s something you well…like.
Love,
Bailey
You know when you’re in a bookstore and you pick up a book and realize it’s very similar to one you’ve read before.
Well, I hate to be the one to tell you but there’s very little originality in this world anymore. Everything is so yesterday, having been done before and many times at that.
But there is one thing that will keep you from diving down the hole of depression on this one: it’s you.
You have never written your story.
And it will be unique, and wonderful, and something that the world has never seen before.
Because it will be yours.
In the narrative of this country and this life, do not forget to write your own story. This is your chance to make it what you want. Never mind that everyone is doing something similar. Your voice will stand out.
It always has.
Love,
Bailey
I’ve written the story of how my fiance and I met, so I thought I would share it with you.
Enjoy!
Once upon a time, a shining knight heard a fair maiden’s call from across the glen, from her ivory tower. He rode as fast as his white horse could take him so that they could meet. (It took him awhile because he had to stop and get beer, and they were out of what he wanted so he had to go to a few markets before finally buying an entire keg.)
When he finally found her, he saw that she was practicing archery by shooting arrows at hay bales shaped like the patriarchy. He was in love , and so was she. She turned around from her targets, her eyes sparkling in the sunlight, and his first words to her were “Are we really doing this? This is completely made up.” And she put her fingers to his lips and shushed him because this is how everyone meets their future husband, duh.
He took her by the hand and carefully set her bow down for her in case he said something kind of dumb that would anger her, and told her to go wait by the horse. Unfortunately, she loved horses, and after a completely unnecessary joyride through the magic forest, she came back and was ready to ride off into the sunset. But she couldn’t find him. She looked through the entire tower and found him in the library. The knight had become so enthralled by the walls of books that she had accumulated that he refused to leave until he read one last chapter. She shrugged and plunked down on the love seat to finish her own book and the keg. And they lived happily ever after.
(Just kidding. We met in high school, and we’ve never left each other’s side.)
❤
What big eyes you have, grandma!
The better to see you with, my dear.
What big ears you have!
The better to hear you with.
What big teeth you have…
And you should know that this is the part where things start to go downhill. The Grimm Brothers are not known for their sensitivity, and Little Red Riding Hood does not disappoint in this category. After the last line (above), the little girl is chased around the room by the wolf who has eaten her grandmother only moments before. That is, until the friendly axeman arrives to stop the fray by chopping the wolf up and saving the little old lady from imminent digestion.
You are probably familiar with some version of this tale, but I bet you didn’t realize that within this gruesome scene, there is a rather positive message.
Even though Red Riding Hood knows something is up because she keeps pointing out the unusual features that her “grandmother” has suddenly assumed, the wolf is still able to spin the negatives into positives (as surely as Rumpelstiltskin spins straw into gold) by telling Little Red Riding Hood what his charming characteristics are good for.
Forgive me if I am reading too much into this child’s story, (I’m an English major after all) but it seems that the wolf has rehearsed these lines when he delivers them to Little Red. In fact, I would daresay that the wolf has been defending his anatomy his entire life due to the ease with which he speaks to the girl.
You see, the wolf is personified in this fairy tale. That means he possesses qualities that humans have: speech, emotions, the ability to dress up like little old women, you know. So, if he’s only “human,” why wouldn’t he have insecurities about his big ears, eyes, and teeth?
After all, I’m sure you have insecurities. Actually, I can rest assured that you have something that you would like to change about yourself. (I am as sure about this as I am about the fact that Little Red Riding Hood should not actually be read to children.)
Of course, everyone wants a tummy tuck and a little fat sucked away here and there. But if there is one thing that I fixate upon every time I look at the mirror, mirror on the wall, it would be my shoulders.
My shoulders are one of the biggest things that stand between me and the feeling that I look like a sweet, slight, feminine princess. My shoulders are huge. I once measured them and found that they are exactly the size of a clothes hanger, which does not lend itself to the whole “dainty damsel” image favored by society.
But the funny thing is, my grandfather used to compliment me on my shoulders all of the time when he was alive. He would tell me that I have strong shoulders and that I should be a swimmer. And wouldn’t you know, I started to see my shoulders differently. I saw my them as an extension of my ability to bear weight without collapsing. (We’re talking about emotional weight, here. Not physical weight. My arms are puny, let’s so stick with the metaphor.) I suddenly saw myself as strong and present in the world, instead of cowering and afraid. My shoulders became a point of pride instead of contention because I began to see them as a symbol of my ability instead of my appearance. Suddenly, it was not, my! what big shoulders you have. It became my! what big shoulders you have! All the better to raise the glass ceiling on your expectations of my capabilities as a strong woman, my dear.
Now, I’m not saying that you should wait for someone to come along and write a love poem about your insecurities, suddenly casting them in a favorable spotlight, like my grandfather sort of did for me. I’m saying that you should be more like the wolf. Not in the way that he eats grandmothers or preys on little children, but in the way that he champions the parts of himself that he literally cannot hide. The way that he is unapologetic for who he is, even when he is pretending to be someone else entirely.
We all know that fairy tales have wonderful lessons for children. It is time we reconsidered them as adults. We need to see that we are not a wolf in our grandmother’s clothing, trying to be someone else, but ourselves, as we were meant to be seen.
Bailey Dailey 