We went to a party last weekend. And during the evening I was yelled at about my breasts. Twice.
I wasn't wearing anything out of the ordinary - a t-shirt and a zip up hoodie.
The first time it went something like, “Dana! Look at those boobs!”
I smiled and walked across the room toward my friend while hollering, “Wooo Oooo!”
I didn’t realize what was going on until the woman sitting next to my friend grimaced and turned her face away, covering her eyes in utter disgust.
"What’s up with her?" I wondered. I looked down. I was holding my boobs. I must've grabbed them as soon as my friend shouted at me and I hadn't released 'em yet.
Here's the thing about being a feral spaz: You don’t realize you’re doing crazy shit until it’s too late.
Sure, people known to have Tourettes sometimes get a pass for their swearing and screaming, but what about excitable spazzes like me? It's a secret, hidden condition that's rarely discussed openly.
Hey! Maybe that’s why I’m doing this blog! It's like an ongoing public service announcement for all wild humans, so others aren’t totally shocked when we do nutty things.
As it turns out, the grimacing woman didn’t totally shun me. When she realized I wasn't going away, she turned and my friend informed her that I’d written “The Boob Post" and had only recently accepted my breasts. She had read it so I think that gave me a half a pass.
In any case, I was glad I'd remembered this: What other people think of me is none of my business.
That's the kind of stuff you begin to realize when you’ve cared too much for too long.
Needing approval. Uffdah. It’s exhausting.
I still struggle with this. My inner bully really wants to me kowtow to external authorities; for example: how certain people perceive me.
But these types of experiences allow me the opportunity to continue to let that go, as I remember that we all are infinite beings of energy in temporary human bodies who can be free of other people's opinions.
May you live an enjoyable, creative, love-filled life of expansive freedom.
That is my new blessing upon all beings now.
I could come to your child’s baptism and give that blessing, if you’d like.
Or maybe you'd like it at the shower for your new puppy, although he’s not really gonna need it. (Oh! But I'd LOVE to attend a puppy shower for once in my life! Am I right, dog lovers? A party celebrating an adorable puppy and loads of toys and treats? I swear, I can’t think of anything better!)
The second time I was hollered at from across the room that night was when another enthusiastic woman whom I rarely ever get to see, walked through the front door.
As she finished giving someone a hug, she pointed at me and yelled,
“I LOVE YOUR BOOBS!”
This has to be my favorite greeting of all time.
I’d love it if we ALL got to experience this kind of greeting someday.
Whatever embarrassing part of us that we’ve been hiding, we could just tell others about it and then they'd shout it at us whenever we enter the room.
"I love your nostrils!"
“I love your grey roots!”
"I love your toes!”
“I love your bald patch!"
Wouldn’t that be ridiculous and fantastic?!
Self-compassion and self-acceptance, encouraged by our friends.
May you all have at least one friend who does that for you.
And if not, do it for yourself when you walk in front of the bathroom mirror. It's super silly and uplifting.
Plus, nobody's watching. And even if they are, who cares!
I bet they'd love to join you in the fun.